


First Class

by TheSSClexa



Series: The Pilot Series [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: AU, Adventurous Clarke, Angst, CRC, Clexa Love Week, Clexa Rub Club, Clexa Week, Clexa Week 2017, F/F, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Hot Pilot Lexa, Hot studio city apt, Mostly Fluff, Porn with Feelings, Soft porn with feelings, and sexy cozy cabins, clexa au, just a little, modern day AU, more smut, not a slow burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-24
Updated: 2017-11-06
Packaged: 2019-01-04 21:54:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 22,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12177261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSSClexa/pseuds/TheSSClexa
Summary: Lexa - a young international airline copilot.Clarke - a young international photojournalist.Where in the world will they meet?





	1. Paris

**Author's Note:**

> I was sick of the slow burn, so we'll get right into it!

She was nervous, like a prepubescent teen approaching their first crush. Standing in line, waiting to get off the plane, it was the third time they made eye contact as Clarke arrived in Paris.

The copilot, standing ahead, was a relatively young brunette with the most beautiful green eyes, killer jawline, and lips that could stop a war. Clarke had seen her before on past flights to Paris, but never exchanged words. Except this time, Clarke wasn’t going to be caught so dumbfounded. She wrote her name and number on a piece a paper, like a student in high school passing a love note, intending to hand it to the stunning copilot as she deplaned.

Clarke was just one person away, waiting for the man in front to grab his overhead luggage when his suitcase drops on top of her arms, scattering her stack of papers, laptop, and love note.

“Shit, I’m so sorry. I’d help but I have to make a connection, sorry,” says the man in a rush and hastily retrieves his suitcase without helping.

Clarke quickly kneels down, picking up all her belongings, desperately looking for her note when she notices that the gorgeous copilot is helping. Picking up her papers in a neat pile and handing it back to her, love note nowhere in sight.

“Here you are,” she says to Clarke with an angelic voice, looking kindly into Clarke’s eyes.

Clarke freezes in the moment, only able to muster the words, “Um, thanks.”

She wants to say more, but an impatient passenger in the line behind her interrupts, “Hurry up over there!”

Clarke stands and steps off the plane, looking back at the brunette. _Damn,_ that was her chance.

 

                                                                        ∞

Clarke Griffin, photojournalist for a travel LGBT magazine known as OUTropolis is wrapping up her piece on France, ending in Paris for the next week. Four years since graduating college, Clarke did her time as a one year intern, answering phone calls and making shitty coffee before assigned to shadow another journalist for an additional year and then finally receiving her own independent stories. At first, she was mainly responsible for taking pictures, but given more opportunity to comment and write. She’s been working self-sufficiently for two years now, gaining confidence in her contribution to the magazine as they continued to send her abroad.

Siting outside at a small table, Clarke is sipping her glass of wine and waiting for dinner to arrive in a quaint French café. Laptop open and papers spread about, she is reviewing her handwritten notes and editing a rough draft when a soft voice steals her attention.

“Someone like you shouldn’t be having dinner alone.”

Clarke looks up, dipping her reading glasses, to find a sea of dark green. _It was her_. The beautiful brunette, except no longer in her airline pilot uniform but a pair of jeans and casual tank top. It was a warm evening in mid-June. Fate must be apologizing for the lost note during Clarke’s deplaning earlier today.

Clarke smiles, “Hi, it’s you. Would you like to join me?” pulling some of her notes off the table to make room for the brunette.

“I’d love to,” she replies smiling, pulling out the chair to sit across from Clarke.

The waiter comes back around, seemingly familiar with the brunette, “Good evening ma’am, very nice to see you again. May I assume the usual and something to drink?”

“Yes, the usual and I’ll have whatever she’s drinking,” replies the brunette, pointing to Clarke’s glass of red wine.

Clarke tilts her head, “The usual, been here before?”

“Actually, yes, quite often. I routinely come here when I’m overnighting in Paris. Though the first I’ve seen you here." 

Clarke is unable to stop smiling, actually, neither are able to stop smiling.

“I found it on Yelp, they had high reviews. It’s part of what I do.”

The waiter returns with a second glass of wine and the brunette thanks him. 

“So, obviously you know what I do, what is that you do?” asks the brunette.

Clarke replies, “I’m a photojournalist for a magazine.”

“Oh, what magazine?" 

“OUTropolis,” replies Clarke. 

“You are not, I love OUTropolis. I’m a subscriber. Wait, what’s your name?” asks brunette.

“Clarke.”

“Clarke Griffin!?” the copilot says in surprise.

“That would be me,” says Clarke modestly.

“I absolutely love your articles, they’re so good. Your photos are even better, exhilarating. This is quite the honor.”

“Oh, no, please. It’s just what I do. Thank you though,” replies Clarke, and drops an extra line, “Exhilarating, huh? It’s nice to hear that type of reaction from a reader.” 

The brunette catches the line, leaning forward on the table and playing with the rim of her wine glass. She replies with confidence, “I’m sure you can get any reaction you wanted." 

Clarke looks down to hide her growing smile, blushing lightly, but regains her poise to look back into the brunette’s eyes, “I’m sorry, but what was your name?”

“Lexa.”

“Lexa,” says Clarke back to her, “That’s a unique name, short for anything?”

“No, just Lexa.”

They continue with dinner and a casual, easy going conversation that lasts much longer than either intended. Lexa checks her phone, realizing the time and her 5am flight the following morning. She considers staying longer or even inviting Clarke to her room. But, she didn’t want to seem too desperate.

“I’m sorry, I’d love to stay, but I do have an early flight tomorrow morning,” says Lexa, slowly getting up from the table.

“Where are you staying?”

“Just a few blocks up the street, at the Hilton.”

“Oh, me too,” replies Clarke. Fate was no longer just apologizing, blatantly giving Clarke and Lexa a chance beyond what they thought they deserved. Nevertheless, Clarke took the chance openly, “Care for company on the walk back?”

Lexa’s smile widens, and gestures, “After you.”

                                                                         ∞

Stepping into the elevator, Clarke pushes the button for the 7th floor and Lexa for the 9th. Lexa leans back on the rail feeling oddly shy and nervous. She couldn’t remember the last time she was this anxious, her stomach filling with butterflies, maybe when she took her pilots test? Glancing at the blonde, Lexa wonders if she should make the first move. They were practically eye fucking all night across the dinner table, actually even before that, when Clarke was deplaning. Clarke Griffin was a great writer with exceptional insight and it was even more attractive to know that she was such an exquisite blonde with mesmerizing blue eyes.

Lexa turns to meet Clarke’s gaze, about to gauge whether or not Clarke was interested in a kiss. Except Clarke was already there, stepping in to close the gap and pushing Lexa lightly against the elevator wall.

Clarke reaches around the back of Lexa’s neck and places a kiss on Lexa’s lips. Their first innocent kiss quickly turns as Lexa’s hands find purchase on Clarke’s hips, pulling her closer and leading with her tongue to gain entry. Their tongues touch, tasting of sweet red wine as a rush of sensation fills them both. Breathes catch and eyes shut as they simultaneously hum into each other’s mouths.

The elevator doors open to the 7th floor and they stumble out, unwilling to part lips and barely able to make it down the hallway to Clarke’s room. 703. Still too concentrated on Lexa’s soft and plush lips, Clarke is blindly searching for her key card in her bag.

“Mmmm, just hold that, one second,” says Clarke, finally parting from frustration to look for the key card.

Typically, Lexa was a patient person, but she was unable to stop, like opening a floodgate. There was something about Clarke, something special and Lexa couldn’t stop herself. Relentlessly kissing Clarke along her jaw, neck and around the back of her ear as Clarke dug for the key card. Clarke’s knees felt like they were about to give as she closes her eyes to force concentration. 

“Mmm, fuck. Stop that, just give me one second,” sighs Clarke.

Lexa whispers into Clarke’s ear, “You started it,” and takes Clarke’s words in the opposite direction, pushing Clarke against the door and sucking on her earlobe.

Clarke swears she’s about the drop when she finds the key card. It takes her two tries before the lock beeps green, and she nearly falls as the door swings open behind her. Dropping everything to throw her arms around Lexa, meeting her lips again.

                                                                         ∞

Opening her eyes to the white hotel room, Clarke looks at the bedside clock, 9:42am. She takes a breath in, regaining focus and remembering the night before. Lexa. She had slept with one of the most, if not _the_ most, beautiful person she’d ever laid eyes on. Looking at the empty pillow next to her, where she last remembered Lexa, Clarke finds a hand written note.

“May we meet again –L”

It was simple, sweet, but Clarke couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed that there wasn’t more. _At least a number,_ Clarke thought. Not to mention the sex was mind blowingly good, especially for a stranger. Clarke was also certain she returned the notion for Lexa, twice. Nevertheless, Clarke was not too quick to judge, she herself was also guilty of leaving one-night stands. Especially in college, but had gradually grown past, Clarke shrugs it off. She was more than happy about the experience and couldn’t complain.

Walking around the room, Clarke picks up her belongings and begins to organize some of her notes for the day. She’s in Paris for the next week to gather more material and finalize her article, then hopping back on a plane back to the States.

 


	2. Airborne

One week later.

Standing in line to get on her plane, Clarke is slightly apprehensive. Chances of running into Lexa again were slim, but still, the chance existed. Auspiciously, the universe was on her side as she stepped foot on the aircraft and caught a glimpse of a Lexa’s emerald eyes, long dark waves, and red lipstick.

“So we meet again,” says Clarke, walking past and stopping in front of Lexa as the rest of the passengers boarded.

“So we do,” replies Lexa, she’s about to say something else, but the other pilot interrupts.

“Can I get some help with the radio checks?”

Lexa turns, “Sorry Clarke, excuse me. Enjoy your flight." 

Upon taking her seat and about to pull out her laptop, a flight attendant comes up to Clarke.

“Excuse me, are you Clarke Griffin?”

“Yes.”

“There’s an extra seat up in First Class, I was given a request to offer it to you.”

Must have been Lexa’s doing.

Clarke smiles, “Oh, sure.”

Wiggling into a comfy first class seat, Clarke pulls out her laptop, scanning through hundreds of photos and deciding on which ones she’ll use for Paris. With the front door of the plane in her direct line of sight, Clarke couldn’t help but feel exceptionally giddy. She wanted to knock on the cockpit door, pretend that she thought it was the lavatory and potentially catch another glimpse of Lexa. It was incredibly distracting as she tried to focus on her work. Thinking about her night with Lexa last week, and unintentionally feeling aroused at the thought of Lexa between her legs- kissing, licking, and sucking. An overhead announcement interrupts her mental replay. It’s Lexa.

“Good afternoon passengers, this is Flight 307 nonstop to JFK International Airport in New York. Our flight time today is approximately 8 hours and 27 minutes. We’ve currently reached cruising altitude at 39,000 feet and will be turning off the seat belt sign shortly so you’re free to roam about the cabin. Thank you.” 

If Clarke wasn’t already turned on daydreaming about last week, the sound of Lexa’s voice over the public address system was incredibly sexy. She takes a deep breath in to refocus, flipping her laptop to a movie to try and distract herself. Except it doesn’t work as flashbacks of Lexa kissing her neck, between her breasts, and down her stomach overwhelms her mind.

“Something to drink?”

“Huh?” Clarke looks up at the attendant, still caught in her daydream.

“Would you like something to drink?”

Clarke typically would have had a glass of wine, but opted for something stronger, “Vodka cranberry please, and can you make it a double?" 

Clarke shamefully thinks about throwing a blanket over and masturbating. _No._ She had more decency than that, as well as self control. What was she, a horny teenager? Certainly not. Ignoring the urge, Clarke anxiously waits for her drink to take the edge off.

Practically downing her drink like a double shot, Clarke feels a little better with a slight buzz, which enables her to fall asleep in a light nap. Unsure how long she had been sleeping, the sound of the cockpit door opening wakes her up. Stirring, she looks ahead and sees Lexa exiting, eyeing her. Lexa allows a teasing grin to escape, pushing the door into the adjacent lavatory. Clarke looks up at the lavatory occupancy light, waiting a few seconds, it doesn’t click red- Lexa isn’t locking it. Completely abandoning her decency, Clarke nearly leaps up and stumbles into the restroom.

Greeting Clarke with the same smile and leaning back casually on the sink, Lexa leads, “Ever been to the mile high club?”

Clarke replies playfully, “No. Where do I sign up?”

Lexa leans into Clarke a for kiss, smashing lips, bracing the door closed and sliding the lock shut. Meeting Clarke’s tongue, it tastes sweet and tart, like cranberries and Lexa sighs for more. Clarke was an amazing kisser, smooth with just the right amount tongue. Impatiently reaching down, Lexa unzips Clarke’s pants, satisfied to find Clarke fairly wet and Clarke lets out a gasp.

“Thinking about me?” teases Lexa.

“Like you wouldn’t believe.”

Lexa spends the entirety of her 15-minute break fucking Clarke senseless. Trying to at least attempt discretion, Lexa hushes Clarke with kisses and muffles Clarke’s moans with her own mouth. Nonetheless, every now and then, they both let out a giggle, like teenagers in a bathroom stall.

“God, you are so fucking hot,” says Clarke, looking to rip off Lexa’s airline blouse after she finished.

Lexa stops her, “Sorry, I only had 15 minutes and I spent it all on you,” buttoning her top two buttons Clarke had managed to get open, which revealed the top of her bra and cleavage.

“What?” says Clarke, somewhat disappointed that she won’t get a turn to touch Lexa.

Lexa continues to straighten herself out, washing her hands and fixing her hair.

“I only had 15 minutes, I do have to manage a large floating piece of metal with hundreds of people onboard,” says Lexa, placing another kiss on the blonde’s lips, a soft one this time.

“Rain check then?” asks Clarke.

Lexa seems to give the question a slight hesitant thought with meandering eyes, “Sure. You have yourself a rain check.”

Settling back down into her seat, Clarke falls asleep again, but significantly more at peace this time. She doesn’t wake until the sudden jolt of the tires hitting concrete startles her. Slowly gathering her things as the plane taxied into the gate, Clarke decides to stay seated, waiting until everyone was off for another chance to speak to Lexa.

As the line dissipates, Clarke is the last passenger off the plane and meets Lexa as she steps into the aisle.

“Would you care for some company into the terminal?” asks Lexa.

“After you,” replies Clarke, and patiently waits as Lexa gathers her sparse belongings, a single black suitcase and purse.

They exit the plane together, walking into the gate and main terminal. 

“Where are you flying tonight?” asks Clarke.

“Oh, I’m done for today, staying here in New York for the night. You?”

Frowning, Clarke replies with minor disappointment, “I have a connection to catch, in an hour,” but unwilling to part, “Would you like to wait with me?”

Lexa looks over at the pretty blonde, who was being quite adorable and makes an exception, “Okay." 

They sit down at a small terminal coffee shop, effortlessly chatting similar to their dinner night in Paris. The hour goes by too quickly.

“Well, I guess that’s me,” says Clarke, gathering her things.

Pulling out her pen, Clarke writes her number down on a napkin and slides it over to Lexa. Unexpectedly, Lexa gently slides the napkin back in Clarke’s direction.

“I- I’m sorry. I had a great time, but I don’t want to lead you on with any expectations,” says Lexa delicately.

“Oh,” says Clarke. She didn’t want to be rude, but never hesitated to speak her mind. Although Clarke didn’t see a ring, that didn’t mean much nowadays, “You’re already with someone. Married?”

Clarke tries to gauge Lexa’s response, but the expression on her face is difficult to read.

“Not- no, I’m- not married. I’m just not ready… to start anything,” says Lexa. Fearful that she might have hurt the blonde’s feelings, she adds, “Is that alright?”

Clarke appreciated her honesty, “Of course, thanks for letting me know. I guess this is goodbye then?”

“For now,” adds Lexa and places a quick kiss on Clarke’s cheek before they each turn, walking in opposite directions.

Clarke was left wondering why such a strikingly gorgeous and successful woman had that type of outlook. Maybe she was cheated on? Although who in the world would cheat on Lexa? Clarke didn’t know. While Lexa most definitely left an impression on her, Clarke respected Lexa’s words and doesn’t dawdle on the thought.


	3. Florence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some more fun times ahead.

August - Two months later.

 

Clarke’s article on France was very well received and she was getting ready to be sent back to Europe, Italy this time. The editors wanted her to complete some sort of European trifecta, France, Italy, and either Spain or Germany. Compared to the two weeks in France, Clarke was given almost a month’s timeframe in Italy, free to roam about some of its most iconic cities including Rome, Florence and Venice. She couldn’t be any happier about her job. Getting paid to travel the world.

Landing in Rome first, Clarke hits up the primary touristy spots including the Colosseum, Trevi Fountain, and Pantheon. But her main focus, was finding the perfect hole in the wall. Aiming to provide readers with local insight and recommending the cute resident nook in the corner.

Finishing Rome after a week, Clarke takes the train to her next destination, Florence. Too early for hotel check in, Clarke drops off her bags at the front counter and goes directly to the San Lorenzo Market; a famous dual indoor and outdoor market. Bustling with visitors, the market is packed with everything you can think of, from food, restaurants and a multitude of souvenirs including prominent Italian leather products. While perusing the market place, Clarke decides to stop for lunch, dipping inside the indoor two-story food market filled with fresh vegetables, pasta, fruit and more.

Deciding on a restaurant, Clarke wanders up to find the silhouette of an all too memorable brunette, casually reading a book with a cappuccino. Feeling extra lucky, Clarke would have bought a lottery ticket if she were back in the States. She didn’t anticipate ever running into Lexa again.

“Someone like you shouldn’t be sitting alone,” says Clarke.

Lexa looks up and she couldn’t help but let her green eyes light up like a Christmas tree, “Clarke.”

“May I join you for lunch?” asks Clarke.

“Of course. Please, have a seat.”

Clarke sits for lunch and their conversation is seamless as they pick up from where they left off in JFK’s airport terminal two months ago. After lunch, they spend the remainder of the day meandering the San Lorenzo Market. Neither buys anything, but enjoy browsing the fancy Italian leather purses among other arts and crafts. Before they know it, it’s dinnertime and they sit together like a prearranged date.

“Can I interest either of you lovely ladies dessert tonight?” offers the waiter.

“I don’t normally eat dessert, no thank you,” replies Lexa.

The waiter turns to Clarke, but Clarke is still eyeing Lexa, speaking directly to her.

“Would you consider sharing something?” Clarke raises her eyebrow, “C’mon, just make an exception, this one time. We’re not in Rome, but hey, close enough – When in Florence?”

Lexa wasn’t sure how this blonde had a hold of her. Maybe it was Clarke’s blue puppy eyes, brilliant smile, composure, or combination of. But, it allows Lexa to momentarily drop her walls.

Without revealing herself too much, Lexa replies with, “Hm, alright.”

“Great,” looking back at the waiter, Clarke decides for them, “we’ll do the tiramisu please.”

“Ah, very good, thank you,” replies the waiter, taking the dessert menu away.

Lexa had to credit Clarke; the tiramisu was delicious, light, smooth, and filled with flavor. She didn’t regret it at all. As they get up for dinner, Lexa considered inviting Clarke back up to her hotel room. But remembering her parting words and actions the last time they met, decides not to. She didn’t want to lead Clarke on anymore than the casual day’s worth. Except, Clarke had the opposite thought.

“You know, you still owe me a rain check,” initiates Clarke, “I’d like to cash that in,” and turns to look seductively into Lexa in the eyes, “tonight.”

Lexa felt slightly caught off guard, she was almost sure that Clarke wasn’t interested after their farewell two months ago. But, she was wrong, the blonde was bolder than she thought. Feeling the blood rush to her cheeks from anticipation, Lexa couldn’t help herself. Clarke was giving her a look she couldn’t refuse.

Trying not to reveal her enthusiasm, Lexa replies calmly, “I suppose.”

 ∞

 

Neither could contain their excitement as they wait for the elevator to open. Lexa, twiddling her hands along her thigh and Clarke, arms crossed, but impatiently tapping her foot.

Ding.

The reflective doors of the elevator open and Lexa nearly pushes Clarke over, slamming her along the elevator wall and placing a bruising kiss on the blonde’s lips. Eager to receive, Clarke grips the back of the brunette’s hair, opening her mouth and meeting Lexa’s tongue like she had been deprived of water for months. Tasting the sweet remaining flavor of the tiramisu they shared, it was Lexa’s turn to dig for her key card as Clarke kissed her relentlessly.

“Goddammit Clarke, just give me one second,” sighs Lexa.

“Nm-mn, nope, you were merciless to me last time,” murmurs Clarke, “What makes you think you deserve any better?” And with that, Clarke lets her tongue out and pushes it into Lexa’s ear.

“Jesus, fuck!” exclaims Lexa, going limp for half a second and dropping her bag from the sensation. A few of her purse contents spill- a pen, some make-up, and even a couple of backup tampons but Lexa couldnt care less, digging around the floor with her foot until the key card revealed itself. Lexa grabs the card and her bag, leaving everything else on the floor of the hotel hallway and barely manages to get her room open.

“Mmmm, fuck you have the best lips,” moans Clarke into Lexa’s mouth.

They stumble to get each other's clothes off, stripping as fast as they can; kicking shoes, pulling their own shirts over their heads, unclipping each other's bras, but unzipping their own pants and pulling pants plus underwear off in one motion. 

Lexa pushes Clarke on the bed with full intention to start, but Clarke sits up with vigor and pulls Lexa on top of her instead, so that Lexa is straddling.

“This was my rain check, remember?” says Clarke mischievously.

Kissing down Lexa’s neck and between her breasts, Clarke simultaneous takes a nipple in her mouth while her fingers graze the other. Lexa leans her head back, groaning with pleasure and Clarke pulls her even tighter.

Though this was her second time with Lexa, it felt as exhilarating as the first. Everything about Lexa was toxic and addicting and Clarke wanted more with each touch. Loosing patience, Clarke quickly rolls Lexa over, Clarke on top, and Lexa lets out an unexpected gasp. Reaching down between them, Clarke easily slides into Lexa and Lexa screams Clarke's name, raking her nails down Clarke’s back.

Clarke continues with rhythmic thrusts, matching the motion in Lexa’s hips.

“Oh, fuck… fuck me, Clarke… fuck me,” whispers Lexa into Clarke’s ear, and it turns Clarke on even more.

Bringing her mouth to meet Lexa’s lips again, Clarke gives her one more tongue filled kiss before making her way down. Descending between Lexa’s breasts, scattering kisses along Lexa’s smooth stomach, and finally settling between her legs. Taking Lexa’s clit between her lips, it was like re-experiencing heaven in her mouth from two months ago, kissing and sucking to embrace it all. Clarke could feel that Lexa was close with each lap of her tongue and thrust of her fingers. 

“Clarke…. Oh my god… Clarke!” Lexa’s body freezes and Clarke holds her as long as she needed, then slowly letting her down.

As Clarke crawls back up Lexa’s body, Lexa pulls her down for another kiss, tasting herself on Clarke’s lips. Opening her eyes to meet Clarke’s, a shade of blue she deeply admired, they revealed brilliance and sincerity and it chips at Lexa’s soul. Lexa was starting to feel something that resembled remorse paired with a small drop of prospect. Dismissing the feeling, Lexa closes her eyes and rolls Clarke around so that she’s on top.

Lexa buries her face between Clarke’s breasts, cupping one in each hand and pressing them together so she could drag her tongue in between.

“Mmmmm…” sighs Clarke.

Lexa doesn’t waste any time, dropping her head between Clarke’s legs while simultaneously twirling both of Clarke’s nipples between her fingers. Clarke lets out a moan and pushes her hips up for more. Finally, Lexa envelops her lips around Clarke’s clit, sucking and thrashing her tongue with each rise of Clarke’s hips. Letting go of Clarke’s breasts, Lexa spreads her fingers across Clarke’s abdomen to hold her down while slipping her other set of fingers deep inside.

“Oh fuck Lexa… fuck, yes! Yes! Don’t stop!” cries Clarke, and Lexa is more than happy to oblige.

Speeding up her tempo with increasing thrusts, Lexa can feel Clarke begin to tremble, her walls tightening around her fingers until she finally came. Lexa rides out Clarke’s orgasm with a few extra brushes of her fingers, then slowly coaxes her down.

 

∞

Lexa opens her eyes in the hotel room, scanning the dark room until she spots the bedside clock. 5:29am. One minute before her phone alarm is about to go off. She hates it when that happens.

Gaining consciousness, she realizes she’s sleeping on top of Clarke, her head in the crook of the blonde’s neck. With slow movements to avoid waking Clarke up, Lexa rises, picking up her phone to turn off the alarm and gathering her scattered clothes throughout the room. 

Clarke is still deep asleep when Lexa gets out of the shower, glad that the sound of running water didn’t wake the beautiful blonde angel. If it were anybody else, Lexa would have politely woken them, and asked to leave so she could check herself out of the hotel. Which, she had audaciously done before in the past. Lexa made an exception this time and grabs a pen to leave Clarke another note.

Giving the blonde a second glance and gripping the pen, she felt a tug on her heartstring. Lexa was hesitant, but nevertheless, gives the blonde a little bit more about herself.

“Didn’t want to wake you. Please check out for me, last name: Woods -L”


	4. Chicago: Day 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As much as I'd love to keep up my near daily updates, I do have some real life priorities I've been ignoring. But, hopefully this update will give you some solace until my next.

October - Two months later.

 

Clarke is sitting at home in her studio apartment in Chicago. It’s spacious with a modern yet industrial finish; red brick interior, polished concrete floors, raw piping exposed, and stainless steel kitchen. Further decorated with paintings, some of which are Clarke's own, others bought from galleries, several small sculptures, and souvenirs from Clarke’s travels includie a dedicated wall filled with postcards and prints of her personal favorite photos she took.

Usually, working at home is not a problem, but tonight, for whatever reason, Clarke has trouble concentrating and decides on a change in atmosphere.

Grabbing her coat and laptop in hand, Clarke makes her way down to a coffee shop several blocks away. The shop has a hipster-ee vibe, with poetry slam on Thursday nights and live local bands on the weekends. But tonight, Monday night, it’s just faint music from a set of overhead speakers playing 45’s from an old vinyl record player. Or maybe it’s a new vinyl record player made to look old. Whatever.

Making herself comfortable, Clarke plops down sideways on a couch under a window, lifting her feet up and opening her laptop again. Sipping a cup of coffee, she spends a few minutes on her phone, spanning all the social media platforms to update her status on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and Snapchat. She has gained a notable fan base from her articles and likes to keep them up to date - that even she went through spurts of writer’s block.

For some reason unknown to her, Clarke thinks of Lexa. Maybe it’s the coffee that brought her back to Italy, or even before that, the coffee shop in JFK's terminal. Wondering, she enters the name ‘Lexa Woods’ in the search box of all the social media apps, but doesn’t get any results.

Clarke puts down her phone at the failed attempts, not giving it too much thought and fate knew. Within seconds, Clarke hears a knock on the window outside, turning her head, she sees a set of emerald eyes peering in along with a small wave. Letting a smile overtake her face, Clarke tilts her head, gesturing the beautiful brunette to join her inside.

Picking her feet off the couch, closing her laptop, and removing her reading glasses, Clarke makes room for Lexa to sit down.

“Hi,” says Lexa, “I didn’t expect to see you in a place like this,” looking around.

“It’s fine, I just needed a change of ambiance.”

“I get it, sometimes I get so tired of looking at sterile hotel walls and their shitty paintings.”

Clarke lets out a laugh that echoes through the coffee shop. It makes Lexa smile wildly.

“So, how are you?” asks Clarke.

The conversation quickly transitions as if they’d left Italy together and no time had passed at all. The hours go by like minutes and it’s nearly midnight before they realize.

“Sorry ladies, we’re about to close,” says the barista.

“Oh, crap,” says Clarke. “Sorry,” and they both begin to get up.

Lexa starts, “I feel like you probably already know what I’m going to ask, but would you care to join me in my hotel tonight?”

Clarke gives Lexa’s question some consideration. The answer is yes to sex, but didn’t know if she should invite Lexa to her place. Instead of answering, feeling lucky, Clarke takes a chance and leads with a different remark.

“I have a better idea. Follow me.”

They begin down the block and Lexa can only guess that they are either going to Clarke’s hotel or quite possibly a bar that’s open later. Clarke stops abruptly in the middle of the third block, in front of a metal gate, nowhere near a populated area, and pulls out a set of keys. Lexa is slightly perplexed until her eyes scan the building names listed next to the buzzer and lands on the letters “C.G.”

“Clarke?”

“Yes?” she replies, as innocently as possible.

“Is this where you live? Here, in Chicago?”

Turning and brushing a piece of hair out of her eyes, Clarke looks at Lexa and answers openly, “Yes.”

For once in her life, Clarke is fearful that she overstepped a boundary and wonders if Lexa is going to take off running. She’s ready for it. But, Lexa doesn’t; Lexa’s expression is still difficult to read, barely letting anything past her eyes.

“Look Lexa, it’s um, it’s up to you. If you don’t feel comfortable, that’s fine,” says Clarke patiently, “We can go back go your hotel if you’d prefer,” but adds an inviting line, “Though I can tell you that I don’t have any shitty paintings.”

Lexa lets out a light laugh. Grinning and sensing like she was making progress, Clarke continues to argue her case.

“I promise I won’t have any expectations. How ‘bout it?” Clarke says as casually as possible with an inviting eyebrow raise.

It seems to work as Lexa gives her a single nod coupled with a blink.

They make their way up two flights of stairs (no elevator this time). 

“You live really close the airport, Clarke. Don’t the sound of the planes taking off and landing bother you?”

“Sometimes. But I travel so much that it’s just much more convenient this way,” replies Clarke as they arrive onto the second floor, “Plus I have double-paned windows so it’s really not that bad, only when I have the windows open."

Clarke opens an industrial looking sliding metal barn door into her studio apartment. Lexa is taken aback by the overwhelming sight of art; paintings of various mixed media, sculptures, posters, photos, travel books, regular books, more books, and magazines.

“Oh my gosh Clarke, when you said you didn’t have any shitty paintings, I wasn’t expecting this. It’s like a miniature art museum in here.”

Clarke let’s out a small smirk, “Thanks,” as she tosses her keys on the kitchen counter and shrugs her jacket off.

Walking over to Lexa, Clarke offers to take off hers, “May I?”

While they both have radically stripped each other’s clothes off before, there is something different this time. Neither can quite pinpoint what, but don't linger on the thought.

Lexa nods, letting Clarke gently take off her coat, “Thank you. Chivalry isn’t dead after all.”

“No, I’d like to think not,” replies Clarke, and adds to her own chivalrous charm by opening and pouring two glasses of wine, instinctively bringing one to Lexa.

Clarke lets Lexa wander around her apartment; there really is a lot to look at. Lexa stops at Clarke’s postcard/photo wall, filled with photos taken by Clarke and postcards of places she’d been to.

“Well you’re quite the world traveler,” Lexa says.

“You’re the pilot and you’re telling me?”

Lexa smiles, “Yes, but… your travels are different. So much more… affluent,” Lexa says with enthusiasm as she continues to study the wall. “When I was young, being a pilot sounded exotic. Now that I’m here, I’m constantly tied to major airports. Always on a 24 or 48 hour leash. It’s not the same.”

Lexa continues to a stack of OUTropolis magazines and she picks up the latest issue, automatically flipping to Clarke’s article, seemingly from memory.

“I read your article on Italy. It was very good, and I see that you mentioned the restaurant we ate at.”

“It was unique, plus they had good dessert,” replies Clarke.

Lexa smirks, remembering the tiramisu. She wanders past the stack of magazines and reaches an easel.

“I didn’t know you painted? This is beautiful, Clarke,” says Lexa, studying Clarke’s latest painting; a midnight sky scene with the auroras dancing behind a shadow of trees.

“The color pallet, your brush strokes, everything. You’re a woman of many talents,” Lexa complements.

Clarke dishes it right back, “You fly a multi-million dollar piece of equipment and you consider my archaic paint-on-canvas talented?”

Clarke’s quip really makes Lexa laugh and it resonates throughout the apartment. Clarke finds Lexa’s laugh mesmerizing. 

Controlling her outburst, Lexa clears her throat, “Could I, ask a favor?”

“Of course,” replies Clarke, already dangerously close to giving this woman the world. Actually, more than that, the galaxy, hell, the entire universe if she could, but also, remembers to avoid expectations.

Lexa holds out the article, “Would you mind signing this for me? I really am a big fan.”

“Certainly.”

Smiling, Clarke takes the magazine and pulls a Sharpie from her coffee table. She signs it and returns it to Lexa with an extra thought.

“Actually, I can do you one better,” says Clarke, proceeding to her painting. “It’s essentially finished.”

Clarke opens a tube of white acrylic and puts the cap in her mouth. She dips in the end of a fine paintbrush into the tube and signs the bottom right corner of her painting. Screwing the cap back on, Clarke lightly tosses the brush in a clear cup filled with water, making a “clink” noise and takes the canvas off the easel.

“It would be my pleasure,” offering her painting to Lexa.

Taking the canvas, Lexa is really blushing now, completely unable to control her smile and flattered beyond words. Reclaiming some control and composure within her, Lexa steps towards Clarke, but stops inches away.

“The pleasure is all mine,” whispers Lexa and places a deep kiss on Clarke’s lips.


	5. Chicago: Day 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was a little rushed on this chapter (limited computer access), so bear with me if there are some typos and grammatical errors. Wanted to get this out to you guys! Thank you for all the comments!

* * *

Her eyes are closed, she's still asleep, but Lexa stirs from a sensation between her legs. A warm, soft, and satisfying sensation she remembers from the night before.

It belongs to Clarke’s tongue.

Lexa lets out a soft sigh, “Ooohhhh…”

The pace increases and Lexa’s eyes open, taking in the sudden colors of the vibrant room and recollecting that she is not in a hotel room this time, but at Clarke’s considerable studio apartment.

“Oohh fuck, Clarke…”

Unable to withstand the increasing pleasure, Lexa’s admiration of the colorful room is short lived when the overwhelming sensation of her orgasm forces her eyes shut again. Her legs squeeze tightly and fingers grip Clarke’s soft sheets.

Still lying breathlessly, Lexa reopens her eyes to watch Clarke crawl back up her body, the morning sunrise entering just right to highlight all of her features, but especially her spellbinding bright blue eyes.

“I thought you would have been gone by now this morning,” says Clarke. “So I decided to take advantage of the situation.”

Lexa is speechless, still high from her orgasm. 

“You didn’t mind, did you?” Clarke says playfully.

All Lexa can do is smile and shake her head. Patiently waiting, Clarke peppers a few kisses along Lexa’s neck and lies down beside her, propped up on an elbow.

“When do you leave?” asks Clarke.

“Not until tomorrow morning, actually,” replies Lexa.

Clarke’s heart perks up at the opportunity, but still a little unsure of Lexa’s limitations.

Lexa knows she doesn't want to set any expectations, but now she isn't questioning Clarke’s, but her own. The recent insight into Clarke’s apartment captured her, and she can't deny her own craving for more.

“Would you like to spend the day with me?” offers Lexa.

Clarke reaches for Lexa’s hand, intertwining and playing with her fingers. “I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Clarke says, and leans in for a morning kiss.

“Mmmm…” sighs Lexa into the kiss. “Wait, it’s Tuesday, how do you have the day off. Don’t you have a job?”

“Yeah, but I’m in my office only half the time. They don’t care as long as I meet my deadlines. So we really do have all day,” Clarke smiles and abruptly hops out of bed.

“Wait, where are you going?” asks Lexa.

“Shower. Coming?” replies Clarke.

Lexa grins, throwing off the sheets in one quick motion.

Clarke turns on the water and they giggle like schools kids. Spending the majority of the time kissing and groping each other in the hot water, until Lexa finally reaches down between them and gently caresses Clarke’s clit.

“Mmmm, more…” mouths Clarke.

Tilting down for a better angle, Lexa easily slips in, gliding her fingers in and out as they continue to kiss with streams of water running down their bodies. Clarke picks up her left leg, wrapping it around Lexa’s waist and giving her more access.

“Oh, fuck Lexa…”

Lexa thrusts deeper and harder, and presses in her thigh behind her hand for more leverage. 

“Oh my god… Lexa!” cries Clarke, gripping her arms around Lexa’s shoulder for balance as she comes. Clarke shudders until she swears she might collapse, but Lexa is holding her steadily against the tile wall.

While shaking off the water in her eyes, Clarke leans in for another kiss, leading with her tongue and drinking some of the drops of water trickling down Lexa’s face and into her mouth. In one swift motion, Clarke spins Lexa around, catching her by surprise and presses her against the wall. Clarke sucks on the back of Lexa’s neck and drags her tongue down her spine. Then, Clarke reaches around and is pleased to find Lexa slick and ready to go. She starts with a few teasing circles around Lexa’s clit but is quickly redirected.  

“Inside Clarke, right now, inside…” commands Lexa.

Clarke plunges in and Lexa bends forward from the sensation, backing her ass into Clarke. The blonde plants her free hand around Lexa’s waist for better leverage, and Clarke flicks her fingers back and forth until she can feel Lexa tighten.

“Oh fuck… don’t stop… don’t stop, I’m coming, Clarke!”

Lexa's body rocks as her orgasm surges to the point where her ears begin to ring Additionally, the shower has gotten dizzyingly hot and Lexa feels her legs wobble. 

“Whoa,” says Clarke, gripping Lexa with both her arms now. “You okay?”

Lexa nods as Clarke slowly takes one arm off to turn off the shower and slides open the glass door. The gust of cool air disperses the steam and Lexa takes in a deep breath.

“Better?” asks Clarke.

Lexa turns around, meeting Clarke’s sweet and sincere eyes that capture her. And for a moment, Lexa swears she let everything go. Quickly recognizing her vulnerability creep, Lexa regains control, blaming the slip on the heat and lack of oxygen.

“Yes, better. Thanks,” she replies quickly.

Getting out of the shower, Lexa makes due with the same clothes she was wearing yesterday until Clarke speaks up, “Did you want something different to wear? We’re about the same height, I’m sure there’s something of mine that’ll fit. I don’t mind.”

Lexa looks back into Clarke’s inviting eyes and the feeling returns, floating long enough for Lexa to lose her standard steadfast confidence.

“Um, thanks Clarke, you- you don’t have to, my hotel is less than a mile away. I can make do- and- stop, stop by.”

“Okay, well whatever you want. Are you okay? Stuttering a bit,” Clarke was genuinely concerned, but luckily comes up with a reason so Lexa doesn’t have to, “You’re probably hungry. There’s a decent breakfast place around the corner. I’m starving.”

∞

“Do you spend a lot of time in Chicago?” Clarke asks as she stuffs a fold of pancake in her mouth. 

Lexa couldn’t help but find Clarke’s full cheeks incredibly adorable, like a chipmunk or squirrel and all she could do was smile in a reverie.

“Lexa?”

“Huh? Oh, Chicago. No, I don’t normally fly out of O’Hare. I swapped a shift with a different pilot this week. Today will technically be the longest I’ve been here,” replies Lexa, lightly picking at her breakfast scramble.

“Oh, well, what would you like to do?”

Lexa shrugs, “I don’t do a lot of trip planning. You’re the travel expert, any ideas?”

Clarke wipes her mouth, licking her lips and thinks for a second, “Well, we can do some generic touristy things, but I think there’s a place you’ll really like.”

They stop by Lexa’s hotel for a change of clothes and venture out for the day like a married couple on vacation. After taking the subway into downtown Chicago, Lexa sees the iconic Chicago Cloud Gate, or better known as the Bean, ahead on the left.

“Clarke,” her voice in slight disappointment, “You brought me out to see the hyped Chicago Bean? From your articles, I thought you’d have a little bit more complexity.”

“Who said we were going to the Bean?” Clarke says as she suddenly turns right on the street instead.

They arrive at the entrance of the Art Institute of Chicago and Lexa lets out a wide smile.

Upon entering, the staff appears to be familiar with Clarke, greeting her by first name.

“Good morning Clarke. Where’s your bag and laptop?”

“Good morning, I think I’m just going to enjoy the exhibits today. Thanks!” 

Lexa turns her head, “Do you come here often?”

“Occasionally, I like to work in here. It’s very…” Clarke pauses for the right word, and finds it as she gazes into Lexa’s green eyes, “inspiring.”

Clarke grabs Lexa’s hand, which inadvertently makes Lexa’s chest flutter, and gently pulls them along in excitement, “C’mon, they currently have the Deering Family Galleries of Medieval and Renaissance Art, I’ve been dying to see it." 

Lexa comments while looking at ab armored man bearing a sword on horseback from the 1520’s. “I don’t get it. Such a savage way of living, fighting with swords on horseback.”

“What? I think it’s great,” replies Clarke. “They were so strong back then. Not just physically, but mentally, their experiences during war. Time away from family and friends. People dying at any time between the fighting and disease. What a hard way to survive.”

“Hm,” Lexa ponders on Clarke’s comments. “I suppose life is much more than just surviving nowadays. Except that we’re so blinded by what we have, ample food, water, hell, the internet and immediate satisfaction of Amazon. It’s so easy to fall complacent and fail to appreciate the real world around us. Everybody with their faces buried in their cell phones with zero organic interaction, though technically, we’re more connected nowadays than we’ve ever been.”

Clarke turns to Lexa, “That was deep baby.”

 _Shit._ Clarke instantly regrets her sentence. She is usually much more careful, rarely misspeaking, but the nickname just slipped. Clarke did promise ‘no expectations’, but it's becoming increasingly difficult. More so than she wants to admit to herself.

“Uh, I’m sorry, I didn’t…” Clarke starts.

Conversely, Lexa finds the term a little endearing. Though she's not a big fan of pet names and it borders relationship expectations, Lexa makes an exception this time.

“No, it’s okay. It’s fine,” says Lexa with a smile, and reaches back out for Clarke’s hand to gesture that it really was okay.

They roam the rest of the Institute and their conversation quickly develops. To Clarke’s astonishment, Lexa is very well versed in art, spanning multiple eras, artists, and cultures. Their previous conversations across dinner and coffee were feeble compared to the complexity they explored when meandering through works of art.

Upon leaving, Clarke compliments Lexa, “I didn’t realize you knew so much about art, it’s, impressive.”

“I double majored in Political Science and Art History in college. So now you know I meant it when I said I was sick of shitty hotel paintings,” replies Lexa, and Clarke bursts out in laughter, which makes Lexa smile ever more. 

“Mm, that makes sense,” replies Clarke, smiling and looking at Lexa, recognizing their commonality, “I also double majored. Art History, as well. And Biochemistry. I almost went to med school, my mother wanted me to follow her footsteps. Obviously, I went the other way.”

“That’s understandable. My father was a Senior Chief in the Navy, and for the longest time he wanted me to become an Officer. He’d used to call me his little Commander Lexa. While I applied to the Naval Academy and got in, he was disappointed when I told him I wasn’t going to go. That I wanted to fly airplanes and not drive ships. So here I am.”

Not only are they considerably equally matched in intellect, but share a similar parental career defiance, which makes their attraction to each other even stronger.

They go out dinner to one of Clarke’s favorite Mediterranean places and the conversation lightens. Though neither would admit, both are actually a little mentally worn from the other.

They take the subway back to the Northwest side of town and pass back by Lexa’s hotel. Clarke is feeling apprehensive; she doesn't want to see Lexa go. But, remembering her words about “no expectations” hesitantly lets go of Lexa’s hand as they arrive at the front of her hotel.

Lexa doesn't want to admit it either, but she's feeling the same way. The day with Clarke was addicting, stimulating, and rich and she doesn't want it to end.

“Clarke.”

“Hm?”

Though this is the third or fourth time Lexa had asked, for some reason, feels like the first and Lexa says anxiously, “Um… would you like to… come up?”

Clarke’s heart can't stop smiling, even if she willed it, “I’d love to.”

Halfway into the hotel lobby, Lexa stops, remembering something before they lock themselves in her hotel room for the night, “Oh shit.”

“What?”

“The magazine and your painting, they’re still at your place. I do want them.”

“Oh, well, why don’t you just spend another night with me then?” Clarke lightly suggests, still trying to sound as casual as possible.

Lexa packs her room, checks out of the hotel, and they proceed back to Clarke’s.

Reentering Clarke’s apartment, they shed their coats and Clarke automatically goes to the kitchen to pour them a glass of wine. Mid-pour, Lexa reaches around Clarke’s waist for a hug from behind, nuzzling Clarke’s neck and hair.

“I had a really nice day today,” Lexa murmurs into Clarke’s ear, “Thank you.”

Turning around, Clarke meets Lexa’s gaze with a smile and instinctively gives her a kiss.

“Me too,” replies Clarke as she leans back in for a second kiss.

Clarke’s kiss is soft, almost delicate as she let out her tongue to meet Lexa’s. They take their time with a little less lust and a hint of more tenderness. Forgetting the wine, they slowly make their way towards Clarke’s bed with permanent smiles resting on their faces. And gradually taking their clothes off with less desperation and appreciating the moment.

Slowly climbing on top of Lexa, Clarke continues to explore her mouth parting every now and then to kiss her neck and suck on her collarbone. Lexa begins to gyrate her hips, looking for more friction until she finally wraps her legs around Clarke’s waist, pressing herself again Clarke’s bare abdomen.

Feeling Lexa’s increasing wetness against her, Clarke reaches for her bottom drawer.

“Want to um, do something different tonight?” Clarke asks.

Lexa immediately knows what Clarke is suggesting. Toys. Lexa has her own fair share, but doesn't care for them tonight. She wants Clarke, to feel Clarke; her hands, her touch, her everything, not some silicon device.

Lexa places her hand gently on top of Clarke’s, “No…” says Lexa quietly. Lexa looks into Clarke’s eyes and lets her see for a few seconds, “I want you.”

Clarke is soft and sincere in her reply, not questioning Lexa’s answer, “Okay,” says Clarke, retracting her reach.

There is something different in Lexa’s eyes that Clarke doesn't quite recognize. Something Lexa gives her a glimpse of. While maintaining eye contact, Clarke kisses Lexa again, slowly running her tongue along the brunette’s teeth, raking her lips, and then sucking them, watching and reading Lexa’s reaction to decipher her code, that is, until Lexa closes her eyes. She only let Clarke see so much into her.

Grateful for the brief moment of eye contact Lexa gives her, Clarke closes her own eyes to absorb Lexa even more. Finally reaching between them, Clarke strokes Lexa’s clit, dipping in just a few inches every now and then to draw out Lexa’s moans.

“Clarke,” sighs Lexa, “stop teasing me,” pleads Lexa with heavy breaths.

Succumbing, Clarke slips her fingers in, slow and deep, causing Lexa to arch her back even more and let out a long groan. Pressing and circling Lexa just right, Lexa comes within a few minutes; she was already worked up to the brink when Clarke was grinding down against her. Lexa’s orgasm was hard, long, and intense. She was gripping Clarke so tightly, she wasn’t sure how Clarke was still moving above her, adding extra strokes to prolong her come.

Lexa reopens her eyes to Clarke above her, who was watching adoringly, and Clarke asks lightly, “Was that ‘me’ enough for you?”

Lexa half-rolls her eyes at Clarke’s cheeky question, nods, and thinks to herself, _more than you know._

∞

Lexa is contemplating what to write, automatically twirling the pen between her fingers. She recalls the previous day in its entirety; from their morning shower, breakfast, remarkable conversations, and last but not least, the sex, Lexa undoubtedly wanted to see Clarke again. Though she did tell Clarke she didn’t want any expectations, she recognized her own change of heart and figured Clarke could decide for herself.

“Thanks for the painting. (928) 926-4332 –L”


	6. Los Angeles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey readers, I know you've been diligently waiting, so here it is. Clarke gives Lexa a call!

One week later.

Sitting in her office, leaned back with her feet kicked up on her glass desk, Clarke is playing with the piece of paper Lexa wrote her number on. For a week, she’s been carrying it around with her, its edges are now worn with creased lines and smeared ink. Like a shy adolescent, Clarke was cautious about calling Lexa too soon, fearful to appear desperate or needy. A feeling completely foreign to her. Gathering some courage and contentment that she at least waited a week, Clarke decides to call Lexa with the perfect reason. Lexa picks up after the third ring.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Lexa? It’s Clarke.”

“Hi Clarke, I’m glad you called.”

“Me too.”

“How are you?”

“Good. Um, I’m not sure what your schedule is like, but would you like to accompany me to a fundraising gala next weekend? In Los Angeles? OUTropolis has a table.”

There’s silence on the line and Clarke feels at slight unease.

“Like a date?” asks Lexa.

“Well, no. I mean, not unless you want it to be? But it doesn’t have to be. I’m just allowed to bring an extra guest.” Clarke felt like she was walking through a mine field, unsure of where she was stepping.

“Sure. I can be in LA. You said next weekend?”

“Yes, next Saturday night. It’ll be at the W Hotel in West Hollywood.”

“Okay,” replies Lexa.

“Okay great, I’ll um, I’ll add your name to the list and send you a link with the details,” says Clarke with a broad smile.

They stay on the line, chatting for roughly 45 minutes until Clarke has to end the call due to a work meeting. Both looking forward to next Saturday.

 

∞

 

The Following Saturday.

Clarke goes through the several outfits she packed for the gala, unsure whether to go with a more masculine dark suit and vest or a mid-thigh light blue dress, easily pulling off both with her natural striking features. With the knowledge that she was going to see Lexa tonight, Clarke decides on the dress to purposefully reveal some extra cleavage.

Leaving her room and arriving early to the hotel’s rooftop Loft to help with OUTropolis’ table set up and manage several silent auction donations by the magazine, Clarke was feeling extremely nervous. The type of nervousness that paralleled waiting for your prom date with the anticipation of losing your virginity. _This is ridiculous,_ Clarke thought to herself, now 10 years removed from her 16 year old virgin self. Walking to the bar, Clarke orders an early drink to settle her nerves.

“I’ll have double vodka cranberry please.”

“Whoa, you going to slow your roll over there? Night just started,” Clarke hears behind her. It’s Jasper Jordan, one of the other writers.

“Hey Jasper.”

“Heard you had a date tonight? You never bring a date. Who’s the lucky one? Someone we know?”

“No, I met her a few months ago, she should be here soon. I’ll introduce you. Where’s Maya?”

“She’s checking out the silent auction, Maya is always looking for a new painting,” replies Jasper and looking to the bartender, “Double Jack and Coke, and a glass of the house Merlot.”

“And you’re telling me to slow my roll?” jabs Clarke.

“Hey, takes one to know one,” says Jasper, raising his drink, and walking away to bring Maya the glass of red.

Watching Jasper walk away towards the silent auction by the entrance, Clarke catches a glimpse of the woman she felt like she’d been waiting a lifetime for. Hair down in beautiful waves and carrying a dark leather clutch, Lexa was in a simple, yet elegant black dress with a deep red highlight across the left shoulder and high thigh slit on the right side. Lexa looked absolutely stunning and Clarke drops her jaw, along with her drink.

“Shit,” says Clarke under her breath, grabbing a few napkins off the bar counter and cleaning up the floor. She doesn’t nearly clean up fast enough when the brunette arrives.

“Did you need some help?” Lexa offers.

Grabbing the wad of wet napkins and placing them in the plastic clear cup, Clarke stands and nervously tosses the contents.

“I’m good. Thanks. Hi,” says Clarke, still slightly frazzled.

“Hi Clarke,” Lexa says with a gentle smile, “You look beautiful tonight,” involuntarily eyeing Clarke’s apparent cleavage.

“Thank you, you look… spectacular,” replies Clarke, regaining some composure, “Can I get you a drink?”

“What were you having?”

“A vodka cranberry,” says Clarke, leaving the ‘double’ part out.

“That sounds good, I’ll have the same.”

Clarke orders their drinks and they walk over to browse the silent auction table.

“Fly anywhere exotic this past week?” asks Clarke, bringing up a light conversation.

“Oh no, just the usual Europe rotation – Paris, Florence, Rome, and Venice.”

“So, just all the romantic cities?”

Lexa snickers and leans closer to Clarke, almost brushing her lips on Clarke’s ear as she whispers, “They were only romantic when you were there, and that’s only two out of four. You know, I intend to make that four of four. Baby.”

Lexa’s seductive words coupled with her warm breath against her ear makes Clarke almost drop her drink, again. For some reason, each meeting was as rousing as their first. With butterflies forming in Clarke’s stomach, she struggled to maintain her poise. But, nevertheless, Clarke reaches within to gather what she swears is the last of her composure, and daringly looks back into Lexa’s eyes to dart a playful reply.

“Only two out of four, doesn’t Chicago count?”

“Well, yes, Chicago counts.”

“Good, because I’m adding LA tonight.”

Lexa bites her tongue with a grin, unable to generate a response and gives Clarke a compliment, “Nice recovery. I thought I had you for a second.”

Clarke raises an eyebrow, “You did.”

They hold glances for a second when Clarke is interrupted.

“Hey Clarke!” walking up between Clarke and Lexa, it was her boss, senior editor Marcus Kane,“Thanks for setting everything up, table looks great!”

“Sure thing.”

“Hi, I’m Marcus Kane, senior editor,” extending a hand to Lexa.

“Lexa Woods.”

“Thank you for coming, we always try to raise attendance at these events and Clarke rarely brings a date.”

“Oh, well I’m honored to be here. I’m a big fan of the magazine,” replies Lexa.

“Thank you so much. We’re all about our readers. I have to greet several others, just wanted to say hello. Ladies,” and Kane quickly bows out.

Looking back at Clarke, “So you don’t normally bring a date? Should I feel special?”

“Lexa, you are special,” and Clarke leans in to kiss Lexa, the first for the evening.

Smiling, they each turn their attention back to the silent auction table filled with photos, paintings, books, and other donated pieces and services when Clarke reaches a painting.

“Oh… I like this one,” Clarke says, instantly picking up a pen and putting in a generous offer. Lexa places a few bids of her own, primarily to be polite but keeps a close eye on Clarke’s bid.

Unexpectedly, Kane approaches them again.

“I’m sorry, but can I steal you for a second Clarke. There’s a group of sponsors who want a word with you,” says Kane.

“Sure,” replies Clarke, and looks to Lexa, “Excuse me, I’ll be right back.”

Following Clarke across the room with her eyes, Lexa couldn’t help but admire the dress on the blonde’s body. Highlighting all her curves in the right way, Clarke looked like a goddess and Lexa felt her heart skip a beat knowing that she’ll be going home with her. Though they had already slept together a handful of times, anticipation continued to grow inside of her. 

Returning to check on Clarke’s bid, Lexa picks up the pen and raises Clarke’s offer an absurd amount, glad that they were assigned anonymous numbers for the auction. Looking back up to ensure that Clarke didn’t see her make the bid, Clarke is no longer with the group of sponsors but speaking with another woman. A more masculine woman, a few inches taller than Clarke, athletic build, and seemingly quite confident. She was wearing a suit with bow tie, clean-cut short black hair; a high fade fauxhawk with bleached tips, and a tattoo creeping up the side her neck, barely hidden under her neat shirt collar. Their distance was fine, until Lexa watched the woman touch Clarke’s dress strap on her shoulder, probably pretending to admire, but a possessive churn stirred in Lexa’s stomach. _Was she jealous?_ No, it wasn’t jealousy, she was above that. Lexa didn’t feel threatened at all, but she also didn’t feel like standing by idly.

Lexa wanders over, standing just behind Clarke and gives the woman a very palpable death stare. The kind that clearly said, “If you touch her again, I’ll kill you.”

Picking up on Lexa’s stare, the woman excuses herself, “Oh um, excuse me.”

Turning to find Lexa behind her, Clarke immediately understood the situation that just unfolded and comments, “Was someone jealous?”

“I don’t get jealous Clarke,” replies Lexa nonchalantly, “I just know what I want.”

Trying to hold back a smile and reading Lexa’s face, Clarke felt pleased at the fact that Lexa was being a little possessive and more so, admitted it.

“C’mon, dinner’s about to start,” says Clarke and takes Lexa’s hand.

They sit down for dinner and Lexa meets a few more of Clarke’s coworkers including Jasper with his girlfriend, Maya, Bryan with his boyfriend, Nathan, and Harper with Monty. They table is full with small talk and Lexa makes a decent effort to converse. However, she was primarily occupied with Clarke sitting next to her. While pretending to listen, Lexa mischievously strokes Clarke’s thigh under the table. Lightly grazing each finger agonizingly slow, brushing, circling and occasionally reaching above mid-thigh, but immediately dropping back down. Once, she even got Clarke to choke on her drink and innocently asked Clarke if she was okay.

After the main course and nearly knocking over her wine to fight the sensation, Clarke was unable to bear any more of Lexa’s teasing, excusing herself from the table.

“Um, excuse me,” Clarke says abruptly, interrupting a story Jasper was telling.

Jasper turns to Lexa, “Is she okay?”

“I’m not sure, maybe too many drinks,” replies Lexa.

After a few minutes, Lexa decides to join Clarke in the restroom, “I’ll go check on her.”

Entering the women’s restroom, Lexa finds Clarke waiting patiently with her arms crossed.

“Clarke, are you okay?” Lexa asks sarcastically.

“Oh you are so fucked,” says Clarke.

Lexa lets out a grin, fully aware of what she was doing, “Did you want to go to the room? We are actually in a hotel.”

“No,” Clarke replies automatically, “I have to be at the award presentation in 30 minutes and I don’t plan on leaving the room once we’re in.” Stepping forward, Clarke corners Lexa against the door and flips the lock closed, “Plus, I don’t think I’ll make it past the elevator.”

They spend roughly 25 minutes fucking each other in the bathroom, eating each other out while one sat on the sink and ignoring several knocks on the bathroom door. Fixing their tousled hair and reapplying some makeup, they return to the dinner table, hiding a guilty grin on both their faces. 

“You gals missed dessert,” says Jasper.

“Oh I wouldn’t say that,” says Clarke and Lexa nearly spits her wine back into her glass to hold back a laugh. 

The award presentations went excruciatingly slow, taking up the better part of an hour. While Clarke felt some relief after their short bathroom affair, it was nonetheless, short. Not to mention, she wasn’t even close to being done with Lexa. Finally, the night ends with the silent auction announcements.

“Dammit, who the hell outbid me?” says Clarke, “I knew I should have gone back to check.”

 Disappointed to see that she didn’t get the painting, Clarke double checks on the winning bid, “Christ, whoever wanted this really fucking wanted it. I hope it was worth it to them. I wonder if it was Maya, Jasper would have a fit if he found out she paid this much. Anyways,” Clarke turns her attention to Lexa, “Are you ready to go?”

“After you,” replies Lexa as they exit and head towards the elevators.

As they wait for the elevator, Lexa’s phone rings. She knows what it is, but steps aside so Clarke can’t hear her.

“Hello, is this Ms. Woods?”

“Yes.”

“Congratulations, you have the winning bid for one of the auctions items tonight. A painting. We have it here available for pick up.”

“Yes, actually, can you have it sent down to the concierge to hold? I can pick it up tomorrow morning.”

“Certainly. Thank you again for your generous contribution.”

Walking back by the elevators, Lexa puts her phone back in her clutch.

“Who was that?” asks Clarke.

“Oh, just a work call.”

Ding.

They step foot on the elevator, eyeing each other, about to lock lips until.

“Hold the elevator please!” shouts a man, running in with several others.

Standing behind the small crowd, they stare indirectly into each other’s eyes through the reflection of the mirrored elevator doors. Grinning as they both mentally undress the other, Clarke is biting her lower lip and Lexa, licking hers. After three annoying stops, they reach Clarke’s floor and Clarke grabs a hold of Lexa’s hand, quickly pulling her along.

“Don’t even think about starting,” Clarke says quickly to Lexa as she retrieves the hotel key card tucked snuggly in the side of bra, “I came prepared this time,” and swiftly opens the door to her room.

Immediately turning around, Clarke places her lips on Lexa’s while simultaneously reaching under Lexa’s dress at the slit, tugging at her underwear.

Lexa slips out of her underwear, but not before pulling Clarke’s dress over her head in a single motion and fully absorbing the sight before her. As good as Clarke’s cleavage looked, Lexa wanted all of Clarke’s garments off. Reaching around, Lexa easily unclasps Clarke’s bra, letting it fall and quickly taking a stiff peak into her mouth. Rewarded with a moan, Lexa continues to back Clarke towards the bed until she falls with Lexa on top. Switching to give the other nipple equal attention, Clarke arches her back with another moan and Lexa sucks even harder.

“Mmmm… Lex…” sighs Clarke.

Lexa can feel Clarke’s increasing wetness through her underwear, rubbing against her bare thigh. Giving in, Lexa kisses her way down Clarke’s smooth stomach and hooks Clarke's lace underwear with each thumb, sliding them off.

Pressing her tongue against Clarke’s slick folds, though it was the second time this evening just a couple hours ago, felt like months ago. Taking her time, Lexa switches from licking to sucking, dipping her tongue into Clarke every now and then to draw out more from the blonde. 

”Fuck Lexa... you are so fucking good...” moans Clarke as she began to tremble, gripping Lexa's hair tighter. 

Speeding up her cadenece, Lexa inserts her fingers firmly and deeply into Clarke, pressing and circling just right. Within minutes, she relives Clarke’s orgasm in her mouth, which was was not only beyond satisfying, but thrilling and addicting. Lexa felt like she was skydiving while high, ironic, considering her career. Nevertheless, she wanted to live off this blonde and decided she could. 

 

**∞**

 

Waking up to leave again, Lexa brushes some of Clarke’s hair aside in admiration, watching her sleep. She places a kiss on Clarke’s cheek, causing her to stir, but not wake. Wishing she could stay longer, Lexa had to leave to catch her next flight and begin work again. Before leaving, Lexa goes downstairs to the hotel concierge, where she had the painting from last night’s auction sent and held. The one she had secretly outbid Clarke for. Bringing it back quietly into the room, Lexa leaves the painting along with another note.

“Enjoy the painting, it was worth every dollar. –L”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That dyke who was talking to Clarke, don't hate, because I may or may not have been describing myself...


	7. Las Vegas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Peace and love towards the recent tragic events in Las Vegas. 
> 
> This chapter was already written prior to the real-life events; make love, not war.

Two weeks later – November

 

Lexa had left Clarke several messages, and Clarke in turn had left Lexa a few in reply. It was like they were playing endless phone tag as they both were constantly in different time zones. Each message was a decent length, giving each other a quick update on where and what they were doing along with a few texts throughout the day.

Clarke mentioned to Lexa that she was going to be in Spain for the next two weeks, except that Lexa didn’t fly to Spain and they were going to try and rendezvous after Clarke’s return.

Sitting in Chicago O’Hare, Clarke is awaiting her flight to complete her European trifecta series. Picking up her phone to give Lexa another call, Clarke's phone begins to ring instead. It’s not Lexa, but Kane.

“Hello?”

“Griffin! Have you left the States yet?”

“No, I’m just sitting at the terminal, about 45 minutes until boarding,” replies Clarke.

“Oh thank god. Look, Jasper can’t make it to the Vancouver Film Festival this week, we need you to change your flight to take his place. Spain will be there when you get back, but this film festival is supposed to be huge and I don’t want to miss it, you’re my next best.”

“Um, yeah, I can do that. Is Jasper okay?”

“He’s fine, he got in a car accident, but he’s going to be fine. A bad chest wound from the airbag impact and a broken arm.”

“Okay, I’ll go change my flights now." 

“Great. Thanks again Clarke, you’re a lifesaver!”

Clarke heads to the customer service counter to sort out her flights. All direct flights from Chicago to Vancouver were full, the next soonest, a shitty 13-hour one-stop flight with a two-hour layover in Las Vegas, Kane definitely owed her.

 

-

 

Sitting at the terminal of McCarran International in Las Vegas and awaiting her next flight, Clarke pulls out her phone to give Lexa a call, planning to leave another message to let her know she’ll be in Vancouver for the next. Just as she’s about to hit the green button to dial, the most beautiful and distinguishable voice resonates behind her. 

“Clarke?”

Turning around, Clarke smiles widely. 

“Lexa, hi! I was actually just about to- call you,” holding the phone idly in her hand.

“What are you doing here? I thought you were on your way to Spain? This is the opposite direction of flights unless you’re going three-quarters the way around the world. Trust me, it’s really not as glorious as it sounds.”

Clarke lets out a light laugh, it had only been two weeks, but she had considerably missed the brunette. More than she wanted to admit to herself or Lexa.

“Kane called, he needs me to go to Vancouver next week instead,” explains Clarke.

“Just next week?”

“Yeah, for a film festival.”

“What are you doing the following week?"

“What do you mean?” replies Clarke.

“I have a few days off, Tuesday through Friday. I’ll be here in Vegas if you-” Lexa hesitated. For some reason, the bold, confident, and shrewd pick-up lines Lexa was used to delivering were gone and she was left with the simplicity of her thoughts, “Would you care to spend it with me? Perhaps go out to dinner?”

The situation was exceedingly ironic as Lexa thought back to their already existing multiple meals and nights together.

Clarke grins at the question, “Are you asking me out on a date?”

Lexa smiles at the circumstance as well, “I suppose, yes, a date,” with her hands behind her back and teetering lightly on her toes in anticipation.

“I just did Kane a huge favor, a few extra days in Vegas should be fine. You have yourself a date, Lexa Woods.”

They both smile at the prospect until their eye contact is interrupted by the overhead announcement for Clarke’s plane.

“That’s me, again,” says Clarke.

Lexa nods and they move to give each other a hug, except it was _incredibly_ awkward. Both leaning the same way at first, almost bumping faces, and then leaning the other way to almost bump faces again. Finally, Clarke places her hands on Lexa’s hips to settle their motioning and Lexa’s heart begins to pound, combined with an unfamiliar feeling of her palms sweating and tongue caught in the back of her throat. Clarke leans in and kisses Lexa lightly on the lips.

“I’ll see you in a week then,” Clarke says with a smile, “Bye.”

“Bye.”

 

∞

 

One week later.

Lexa picks up Clarke at the airport in a black Range Rover. Clarke thinks to herself that a Range Rover was a little fancy for a rental, but doesn’t go beyond that thought. Lexa takes Clarke out to one of best French restaurants in Vegas knows as the Picasso located inside the Bellagio Hotel, though neither actually care about the meal and more interested in each other, looking forward to the end of the evening.

As they get up from their dinner, Clarke assumes the typical hotel experience for their next three days. Probably some breakfast in bed, gambling, late night sex paired with 24-hour buffets, and maybe an acrobatic show. Clarke even considered going to a strip club with Lexa.

Leaving the restaurant, Clarke asks, “So which hotel are we going?”

Lexa pauses, “Actually, we’re not.”

Judging from Lexa’s tone, Clarke proceeds, “Wait, do you live here, in Vegas?”

“Actually, also not. I’m not in the city per se. Do you mind- if we’re not staying in the city?”

Even more perplexed, Clarke takes a few second to realize what Lexa was getting at, “Are we going to your place?”

“Is that okay, with you?” Lexa says with an unfamiliar cautious tone.

Smiling, Clarke responds, “Well, you’ve seen mine. So it’s only fair if I get to see yours.”

Nodding with a grin, Lexa proceeds with handing the valet her ticket.

While waiting for the valet, Clarke teases, “You know, you could have just asked Lexa, afraid I was going to take off running?”

“Let’s just say… I had my own doubts... and hesitations,” replies Lexa.

“You do remember I was the one trying to give you **my** number in the first place?”

“Yes, Clarke, obviously my expectations have changed…”

Before they could delve any deeper into the conversation about what exactly their relationship status was or is, the valet pulls up Lexa’s car. 

Turning to Clarke, “Do you need to use the restroom or anything? The drive is about an hour.”

 _An hour? Where the hell did Lexa live?_ Certainly not in a nearby suburb of Las Vegas.

“No, I’m good,” replies Clarke.

They hop into the black Range Rover which Clarke now realizes it’s actually Lexa’s car and not a rental.

“Your car interior is so bare Lexa, you don’t even have anything hanging from your rear view mirror,” Clarke comments.

“I used to have a few things, but it was broken into several times since I leave it at the airport so often. So I took everything out,” replies Lexa.

 _Makes sense,_ thinks Clarke, feeling not quite as bad for failing to recognize Lexa’s car. 

As they proceed out of the city, the majority drive is silent, both their feelings border excitement with trepidation and their effortless conversations are somehow lost. Lexa with a knot in her throat, Clarke with a knot in her stomach – a foreign feeling for both.

Gaining distance, they lose the light of the city and the desert sky appears, pitch black yet opulent with stars and you can begin to make out the Milky Way cutting across the horizon.

“Wow…” says Clarke under her breath, peering up through the vehicle’s large moon roof.

Lexa looks over, “Oh that’s right, I remember your fondness of nighttime sky scenes,” also referring to the painting Clarke had given her, “Sky girl.”

Clarke smiles at the nickname, taking Lexa’s hand and leaning her seat all the way back so she can look up at the sky through the moon roof.

“You think there’s alien life out there?”

Lexa lets out a smirk while she continues to twirl and play with Clarke’s fingers across the center console.

“Statistically, yes,” replies Lexa.

“Well, what about not statistically? You’re so calculated sometimes.”

 “I fly airplanes, I have to be calculated.”

Clarke chuckles at Lexa’s comment.

“Statistics aside, my answer is still yes,” continues Lexa.

“Why?” Clarke challenges, leaning towards the depth of conversation they enjoyed that day in the Art Institute.

“If we’re the most intelligent species in the universe, then god helps us. As a species we hurt each other, kill each other. Think about it, it’s the complete opposite of survival.”

Clarke rebuts, “What about overpopulation? A species has to manage themselves somehow and I just think this is _Homo sapiens’_ way of doing it.”

“That’s a morbid way of looking at things.”

Before Clarke can respond, a bright mustard yellow and ketchup red striped sign flashes past, distracting her from the conversation.

“Wait, did that say ‘Welcome to Arizona’?”

“Yes.”

“Lexa, where the hell are we going?”

“We’re almost there.”

Five minutes later, Lexa takes a left off the main highway onto a pebble rock dirt road. Bouncing around, though Clarke’s been to a dozen places around the world on dirt road, this one made her nervous; nervous because she was getting deeper into Lexa’s life. Except that Clarke also notices Lexa’s grip tightening on her left hand. Taking her right hand, Clarke puts it on top of Lexa’s and rakes her thumb across the top, soothing Lexa’s tension.

Lexa notices the gesture and turns to look at Clarke with a thankful simper.

They pull up to a cabin looking structure with a large detached garage. The cabin has a single porch light, large triangular windows and an even bigger wrap around porch. The inner cabin itself seemed relatively moderate. On the porch sits a couple of outdoor chairs, hammock, covered grilled, and a single small table.

Lexa takes a deep breath in, “Here we are.”


	8. Somewhere in Arizona

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A peek into Lexa's life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had some unexpected free time, BONUS update for today! We all love bonus updates right?

Entering the cabin; it’s a two bedroom, one bath space with wooden interior walls and a small office in an upstairs loft via spiraling black staircase. Though the cabin was rustic, it had modern appliances, sizeable kitchen with a small black marble island and exceptionally well decorated; a Pendleton throw blanket over a mid-sized grey couch, a cross-section of fossilized wood with an oval shaped piece of glass on top as the coffee table and several magazines splayed across including OUTropolis and The New Yorker, a large white fuzzy rug, bright running chrome track lights, three full bookshelves, a fireplace, and last but not least, a substantial amount of paintings. Clarke took notice; Lexa had exquisite as well as expensive taste in art.

“And you said my place looked like a miniature art museum? Now I really feel bad about all those hotel paintings you have to look at,” comments Clarke.

Lexa lets out a small laugh. The only thing somewhat of out of place was the large amount of candles.

“Lexa, why do you have so many candles?”

“Oh, the wind picks up through here and sometimes the power goes out,” replies Lexa.

“Don’t you have a backup generator?”

“I do, but it’s so noisy at times and I spend all day next to a jet engine. So, as you can image, I just stick to the candles." 

Looking along the paintings on Lexa’s largest wall that extended up to the loft, Clarke sees a few that are quite expensive and actually, one that was probably worth several million. She couldn’t help but ask.

“Lexa, I’m sure you do well for yourself, but some of these paintings are very expensive. Is there something else you do, piloting just a hobby?”

 Lexa expresses a light laugh, admiring Clarke’s curiosity.

“They belonged to my father. When he passed away back when I was in college, I got them. He was a collector of sorts, more junk than anything else, but he also collected art and well, he ran across some valuable pieces during his garage sale and auction hunts,” Lexa lets out small chuckle, “Get this, his most prized possession was a piece of the Apollo 13 pod when it crash landed back on Earth. Bid a few thousand dollars for a chunk of metal and he cherished it in little shrine he had set up in the basement when I was growing up.”

“You talk a lot about your dad, what about your mom?”

“Oh, my mom. She died when I was young. I barely remember her, so it was just my dad and I.”

Clarke nods, “Oh, me too. I mean, not me too my mom, but my dad. He died when I was in high school. So... I understand." 

They meet each other’s gaze at another striking commonality, both getting lost in each other’s eyes. Clarke, trapped in a thousand emerald pools and Lexa, swimming in a deep blue sea.

Lexa is the first to snap out of it, “Um, gosh, where are my manners. Would you like some wine Clarke?”

Blinking and returning to reality, Clarke replies, “Uh, sure.”

“White or red?”

“Let’s go with… white tonight,” replies Clarke.

Lexa opens a bottle and pours each of them a glass. Walking back over to Clarke still admiring her art wall, she hands Clarke the glass.

“Thanks.”

“Would you… like to see my favorite?” asks Lexa, standing next to Clarke.

“Of course.”

Lexa takes Clarke’s hand and leads her into the bedroom.

“I keep all my personal favorites in here,” says Lexa.

Flipping on the light, Clarke sees her painting amongst some others in Lexa’s bedroom and is unable to hold back a smile, feeling particularly flattered.

Pulling Clarke’s hand closer, Lexa places a kiss on her cheek and speaks into Clarke’s ear, “Do you like it? The most beautiful woman walking this Earth gave it to me.”

Clarke turns to look Lexa in the eyes, “Smooth, but I’m pretty sure I gave it to the most beautiful woman alive.”

Clarke leans in as her voice trails into a whisper, the words leaving her lips and seamlessly replaced by Lexa’s lips. Reaching out slowly with her tongue, Clarke tastes the bottle of wine Lexa just poured, buttery yet floral and aromatic; she had not sipped hers yet.

Instinctively taking Clarke’s glass, Lexa loosely places their wine on the dresser so she could wrap her hands around Clarke’s waist, pulling her closer and deepening the kiss with her tongue. Clarke lets out a light moan and Lexa breathes it in like she had been deprived of oxygen for years. 

Clarke lightly brushes Lexa’s hair away from her face, cradling her head in the process of deepen their kiss even more. Although they’ve kissed a hundred times before, it still felt like the first.

Making her way under Lexa’s shirt, Clarke caresses the warm skin underneath before pulling it over Lexa’s head. Stepping back, Clarke pulls off her own shirt, never breaking eye contact with Lexa.

They slowly undress, leisurely tracing and rediscovering each other’s curves. Neither had anywhere to be the following day. Sitting and scooting back on her bed, Lexa guides Clarke on top to straddle her, kissing Clarke with more passion than she ever remembers feeling.

Letting her hands roam down, Lexa moves to stroke Clarke’s clit in massaging circles, capturing Clarke’s moans in her mouth.

Just as Lexa is about to slip inside, Clarke stops her.

“Wait,” Clarke murmurs.

“What’s wrong?” replies Lexa with slight alarm in her eyes.

But Clarke’s eyes are reassuring, “Nothing. I want to be closer.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean…” trails Clarke as she proceeds to rearrange one of Lexa’s legs over hers, “This,” and scooting forward and pressing herself against Lexa.

Lexa drops her head back, slamming her eyes shut at the erotic sensation of Clarke’s clit, Clarke’s folds, Clarke’s everything, against hers.

“Clarke!”

Clarke slowly begins grinding herself against Lexa, pulling Lexa’s hips in a revolving motion. Recapturing Lexa’s lips, Clarke continues to move against Lexa in a gradual pace, kissing until neither could concentrate any longer, breaking their lips and leaning their heads together, panting and moaning.

“Lexa…” whispers Clarke.

“Mm...” Lexa was barely able to whimper a response.

“I’m close… Come with me… Come with me baby…” Clarke whispers into Lexa’s ear.

Lexa comes at the sound of Clarke’s voice and Clarke follows within a split second, surging against each other and holding onto an incredible moment of intimacy. Lexa buries her head into Clarke’s neck and Clarke does the same. As they fall back to Earth together, Clarke opens her eyes first, planting light kisses on Lexa’s neck, up her jawline, and back to her lips. 

After a few minutes of kissing, Lexa sighs, “Mmmm…. Clarke?"

Leaning back, Clarke watches the deep green forest in Lexa’s eyes emerge before her, hoping to finally see past the trees. Lexa looked close to revealing something, quite possibly the origin of her emotional jail cell.

“What is it Lexa?” Clarke says softly.

Shaking her head lightly to Clarke’s question, Lexa dismisses her thoughts and refocuses with a small grin, brushing and playing with Clarke’s stray blonde strands. 

Clarke pondered speaking up to fill the silence, but it wasn’t warranted as she watched Lexa look at her in content and admiration. 

Curling under the thick, warm, and cozy blankets, they spoon with Clarke holding Lexa until they fall asleep together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what'd you do this weekend?
> 
> Oh, sat in my basement for hours when it's sunny and 75 outside, writing Clexa fanfic. 
> 
> I really need to reassess my priorities...


	9. Virgin Flight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I got done with work a little early. I've also been sidetracked by a few new fics of mine. Finally adding to this one. Thank you so much for your patience. Hopefully the length compared to my other chapters makes up for the wait. Enjoy!

Opening her eyes to her own painting, Clarke takes a few seconds to remember where she is. Snuggled tightly in Lexa’s cozy sheets and thick down comforter, Clarke inhales deeply to admire the smell of Lexa’s room; a blend of laundry soap, subtle candles, and Lexa’s bath products. Moving her hand across the bed, seeking Lexa next to her, Clarke disappointingly touches a piece of paper.

“As always, couldn’t bear to wake you. Left you some breakfast. I’ll be in the garage if you need me.”

Upon entering the living room, the sight of a small river in a ravine through the large triangular windows takes Clarke aback. She didn’t see it last night from the pitch darkness, but the view was spectacular, comparable to a mountainous retreat you find depicted in magazines. Actually, Clarke herself had written a few articles treasuring such a view. Going into the kitchen, she pours herself some coffee, pot still hot and grabs a piece of toast from the plate.

Putting on a few layers of clothes, Clarke ventures into the garage. There was a bite to the desert morning air, though crisp and refreshing.

“I wasn’t sure what to expect, but I wasn’t expecting this. So are you a mechanic too?” asks Clarke.

Clarke found Lexa working underneath an old truck. Clarke wasn’t particularly knowledgeable about cars, but could at least tell it was old. Lexa talks while still under the truck with her feet sticking out.

“I wouldn’t call myself mechanic, but I can get around with the basics. Been putting off this oil change for weeks,” Lexa continues, revealing more about herself, “When I was kid, because I had smaller hands and could reach between places, my dad used to make me sit and help him with his cars and motorcycle repair projects, another collector hobby of his. This 1977 F150 belonged to him too.”

Finally, after tightening a wrench, Lexa rolls out from underneath the truck, “That should do it.” Getting up, she wipes her hands on a rag and Clarke notices smears of oil across Lexa’s face by her eyes. She looked like a raccoon. It was adorable.

“Lexa, you know you have oil all over your face right?”

“Huh? Oh,” and proceeds to wipe her face with the already oiled rag which seemed to make it worse, now leaving vertical streaks.

Clarke can’t help but giggle and leans in to give Lexa a morning kiss, squeezing her around the waist.

“Did you sleep okay?” asks Lexa.

“Yeah, though it would have been nicer to find you next to me.”

“Aw, I’m sorry. I didn’t want to wake you. But, I guess I’ll just have to make it up to you tomorrow morning,” Lexa replies suggestively.

Clarke blushes lightly, but continues the conversation, “It’s really nice out here. The river is amazing,” with her arms still wrapped around Lexa’s waist, snuggling closer for more warmth.

“It’s one of the Colorado River tributaries,” replies Lexa softly.

Still submerged in Clarke’s hug, Lexa leans in to give Clarke another kiss, inadvertently leaving a small smear of oil on Clarke’s face.

Wiping Clarke’s cheek with her thumb, “Sorry, I better go get cleaned up,” says Lexa.

They go back inside and Clarke picks through the plate of breakfast Lexa left her. While scrolling through her phone to read the news, she catches Lexa undressing in the corner of her eye with the bathroom door halfway ajar.

Hopping off the kitchen island bar stool, Clarke walks up to bathroom and leans against the door frame to further admire as Lexa stepped into the clear glass shower doors. Lexa really was absolutely gorgeous, the sunlight through the bathroom skylight accented Lexa’s flawless curves, smooth skin, and slender frame. Aside from her perfect physical features, Lexa was incredibly smart, sarcastically funny, and downright sweet. Right then and there, Clarke knew it. While she of course wanted to jump into the shower and fuck Lexa into oblivion, something stopped her. Clarke was in love and all she could do was stand in reverence.

Looking up and making eye contact with Clarke, Lexa didn’t mind, purposefully leaving the door ajar. Lexa expected Clarke to join her right away, but Clarke didn’t. Watching Clarke watch her, Lexa felt… loved. She enjoyed the way Clarke was looking at her, with regard and appreciation. In fact, Lexa was feeling the same way. Clarke was as beautiful as she was intelligent, captivating and unequivocally charming. Lexa knew she was in trouble as soon as she ran into Clarke a second time, making exception after exception. Lexa was falling, deeper and deeper in love with Clarke. 

Feeling a little too emotional, Lexa slides open the glass door to break their spell.

“Are you going to just stand there and watch?”

Smiling, Clarke sheds her clothes and steps into the steam filled shower.

“Hi,” says Clarke with a smile as Lexa pulls her into the raining shower head.

“Hi yourself.”

Placing a simple kiss on Lexa’s lips, Clarke could already feel the intent behind Lexa’s grasp as they roamed her now wet skin. Dipping her tongue and gaining entry, Clarke slowly fills the kiss with passion, earning a light hum from Lexa’s throat. Parting after a few minutes, Clarke brushes her lips down Lexa’s neck, hotter than usual from the water, stopping and lightly sucking just above her collarbone. Raising her hands, Clarke cups Lexa’s breasts in a gentle, but firm embrace, simultaneously tracing her thumbs across both nipples. Lexa hisses at the dual sensation, arching her lower back ever so slightly but it was enough to urge Clarke on.

Stepping in, Clarke slowly backs Lexa into the shower wall and drops to her knees. Starting with a few kisses, she shoulders Lexa’s leg and makes her way inbetween. Dragging her tongue, Clarke slowly to meets Lexa’s slickness against the rough stream of hot water.

“Clarke…” Lexa sighs.

Taking her time, Clarke gently laps and circles Lexa until her legs quivered. Lexa was close, Clarke knew well by now and alters to a suck, pulling the swell out and Lexa comes seconds after with one hand gripped in Clarke’s hair and the other splayed on the wall for balance.

Gradually kissing her way back up, Clarke finally reaches Lexa’s neck, pausing until Lexa nudges Clarke up for another kiss. Drinking her diluted self off Clarke’s lips.

Opening her eyes, Lexa finds Clarke’s eyes already open. Sweet and patiently waiting. Overcome with the way Clarke was looking at her, Lexa breaks eye contact by dropping down on her own knees and returning the same.

 

∞

 

Lexa speaks as they get dressed.

“Dress a little warmer today, I have somewhere I want to show you. And bring your camera.”

Smiling with anticipation, Clarke could only wonder where the hell they were going while in the middle of nowhere. It didn’t seem like they were driving back to Vegas anytime soon. At least not the way Lexa was dressed, in a pair of worn jeans, scuffed but comfortable looking brown boots, and a casual green flannel that highlighted her eyes.

“C’mon, we’ll take the truck. She needs to be driven.”

Hopping into the 1977 red Ford F150, Lexa starts the old truck and Clarke was impressed with Lexa’s ability to drive a manual transmission. Though Lexa was a pilot after all, there was something different, watching Lexa balance the clutch and gas with both feet while shifting gears. They drive roughly five miles down the road toward an open field and approach a large barn.

Opening the wooden barn doors, Lexa uncovers a small plane and Clarke is flabbergasted.

“Ever been on one of these?” asks Lexa.

Speechless, Clarke shakes her head.

“Good,” replies Lexa smiling and reaches for a set of jackets, she tosses one at Clarke, “Here, this is my spare jacket, not sure if you’ll be warm enough in that.”

Lexa puts on her primary coat; a brown leather aviator jacket with fur lining that looked like it came straight out of the movies. Regardless, Clarke couldn’t help but think Lexa looked fucking hot. Clarke nearly hurled over when Lexa put on a pair of aviator glasses she pulled from the chest pocket.

Clarke makes a light pass to hide her enthrallment with Lexa’s stereotypical aviator appearance, “Should I call you Maverick from now on?”

Easily picking up on Clarke’s reference, Lexa replies, “Only if I can call you Goose? Or do you want to be Iceman? You have the hair that matches.”

“Neither, if you’re Maverick, then I want to be Charlie.”

Lexa let’s out a chuckle, “Nice, you got it Charlie.”

They get into the plane and buckle up. Trying to register the various instruments before her, Clarke asks, “How old is this thing anyway? I hope not as old as the truck.”

Smiling, “It’s not old at all Clarke, you’re just used to the commercial liners. Everything is so automated nowadays. This, this is what I like. Here, put these on.”

Lexa hands Clarke an avocado green colored headset and puts on her own. Starting the plane, Lexa taxis them out and onto the open field. If Clarke was impressed with Lexa driving the truck, _by god_ she almost came watching Lexa take them off in the small plane. With various knobs, handles, switches, and gauges everywhere, Lexa was using all four of her limbs to pilot the plane. Turning some random dial and pulling a weird looking lever, Clarke swore even the steering handles moved up and down as Lexa’s feet managed a set of pedals. Feeling herself drool, Clarke embarrassingly wipes the side of her mouth. _Jesus,_ if Lexa wasn’t so busy keeping them in the air, Clarke was ready to pounce on her.

Airborne, Lexa dips the plane for a turn and it gives Clarke’s stomach the external feeling of butterflies, on top of her existing internal butterflies, which she couldn’t fathom ever experiencing both this way. Clarke felt extremely unsteady sitting in the small aircraft, sensing each trivial gust of wind, every minor adjustment Lexa made, and pronounced spurts of weightlessness. Unlike her accustomed international flights on major passenger planes. Instinctively, Clarke tightens her seatbelt to a near uncomfortable tautness.

Looking at Clarke, Lexa lets out a small grin at Clarke’s reaction and says something.

“What!?” yells Clarke, unable to hear anything past the plane’s engine paired with the muffling effect of the headset.

Lexa’s existing grin widens. Reaching across, Lexa spins a dial on Clarke’s headset and Clarke can hear an audible click followed by some light static.

“Can you hear my now?” asks Lexa, speaking normally into the headset.

“Oh,” replies Clarke, slightly embarrassed, “Yeah, I can hear you. Thanks.”

“I said, you don’t need to have your seat belt so tight.”

Reaching for her seat belt, Clarke grips her chest strap with both hands like a childhood security blanket and looks at Lexa as if she was going to take it away, “Thanks, I’m good.”

Clarke looked ridiculously adorable in the headset, holding onto the seat belt in unease, and Lexa couldn’t help but admire. There was a sweet innocence to Clarke, except under that Clarke’s innocence was a type of strength and confidence that Lexa loved about her. _Christ,_ if Lexa wasn’t so preoccupied flying the plane, she wanted to jump on top of Clarke and at least kiss the cute blonde silly.

Freeing up her right hand, Lexa extends it. “Do you want to hold my hand?”

Clarke looks at Lexa as if she were crazy, “Don’t you need it? To keep us from falling out of the sky?”

Still amused, Lexa shakes her head, “Trust me. I’ll just need it back when we land,” and extends it further.

Quickly switching from seat belt to Lexa’s hand, Clarke interlocks their fingers. Unexpectedly, Clarke felt some reassurance, like Lexa had magically passed her own ease and comfort through her hand.

“See,” says Lexa, “Nothing to worry about.”

Approaching their airborne destination, Lexa turns to Clarke and eyes her directly while speaking, “This is my favorite view.”

Turning to Lexa, Clarke blushes lightly as Lexa gives her a slight nod to look out the window.

“Oh my god! Is that the Grand Canyon?” says Clarke.

Letting go of Lexa’s hand from excitement, Clarke reaches for her camera. Lexa proceeds to fly them over the Grand Canyon, turning a few times for Clarke to take generous aerial photos before flying back. 

As they land and slow to a stop, Lexa cuts off the engine and it was a race to get their own seat belts off. Both with the same thought. 

Lexa had the obvious advantage, she was in her own plane and Clarke had to finagle with her over tighten straps. Immediately getting up and out of her pilot’s seat, Lexa straddles Clarke for a tantalizing kiss.

“I told you they didn’t need to be so tight,” Lexa mouths, reaching down to unbuckle Clarke’s belt for her.

Free to move, Clarke reaches under Lexa’s warm jacket with one hand and grips the back of her thick brown hair with the other, pulling Lexa closer and deepening their kiss.

After a few hot moments of tongue and teeth, Lexa leans back to shed her coat. Now overwhelmingly warm. Gripping Clarke’s collar, she pulls and kisses Clarke in another heat of passion before pushing the jacket over Clarke’s shoulders for better access to the soft skin on her neck.

While sucking on Clarke’s pulse point, Lexa reaches inbetween them and easily enters, feeling Clarke’s grooves in a warm coating. Clarke was ready for her.

Stroking with her fingertips, Lexa shifts one of her legs over and presses her thigh into the back of her hand between Clarke’s legs.

Clarke lets out a long groan, “Lexa…” The pressure alone was nearly enough. 

Picking up her left leg to give Lexa a better angle, Clarke kicks a few switches and gauges. Instruments be damned. They weren’t in the air anymore.

With Lexa’s firm pressing palm and circling fingertips, Clarke didn’t last long. Already worked up from watching Lexa fly, it was almost embarrassing, except that Clarke didn’t care. She was with Lexa and came for her. Hard.

Regaining her bearings with Lexa’s lips on hers, Clarke unzips Lexa’s jeans and easily sweeps her underwear aside to gain access.

“Clarke…” moans Lexa.

Lexa wasn’t sure how, considering the tight space and restrictive clothing, but Clarke met her with each thrust of her hips. Tilting her head back and arching her back, Lexa lets herself sink deeper and grinds down in satisfaction.

“Fuck Clarke, you feel so good…” she echoes in the cockpit.

Sensing her orgasm, dangerously close though she already came this morning, Lexa tries to stave it off, but Clarke doesn't let her. Somehow, Clarke knew.

“Don’t hold back baby,” Clarke says softly, and fuck was Lexa never so vulnerable to words, coming almost immediately, falling forward and gripping onto Clarke as the sensation overtook her body.

Catching her breath, Lexa reunites their lips for a few cooling moments, eyes still closed before letting off and opening Clarke’s side of the door to get out.

“Wait, Lexa,” Clarke says quietly, forcing Lexa to look at her. 

Though they just fucked like impatient horny teenagers, Clarke couldn’t ignore her surfacing feelings anymore; an undertone of care, compassion and irrefutably, love. She needed Lexa to know, though maybe not in its entirety, Clarke dumbs her feelings down to the words, “Lexa. I’ve never felt this way before, about anybody.”

Though already in a confined space, Clarke’s sentence cornered Lexa. Seemingly conflicted, Lexa’s eyes begin to wander. She looks like she’s about to speak, opening her mouth to say something, except she doesn’t. Pursing her lips back together and swallowing her words.

Reading Lexa’s internal debate and struggle, Clarke spares the woman she held in such high regard, “It’s okay. You don’t have to say anything. I just – wanted you to know.”

Clarke had a way with Lexa, constantly putting her at a sense of ease through the reassurance of her blue eyes, earnest and tranquil. Nodding, Lexa leans in for a sweet kiss coupled with a small smile, thanking Clarke.

Getting out of the plane, they head back to the house and spend the remainder of the afternoon lying lazily together on Lexa’s porch hammock, nestled under a blanket and listening to the river below. Between their conversations and brief naps, Clarke would pull out her phone to check a few things and Lexa, intermittently reading her iPad.

Thinking back to Clarke’s words on the plane, Lexa felt guilty for her failure to reply. She had a response, but just couldn’t muster the words. Lying peacefully on the hammock, Lexa finds the confidence she needed.

“Clarke?”

“Hm?”

Leaning up on the hammock, carelessly causing them to swing, Lexa wanted to at least look Clarke in the face.

“About what you said, on the plane earlier today… I- I… ” Lexa stutters.

“It’s okay Lexa. Like I said, you don’t have to say anything.”

Though Clarke just gave her another out, Lexa dismisses it, “I want to. Clarke I – I’m falling in love with you.”

Clarke is slightly caught off guard at Lexa’s abrupt honesty and even more so, use of the term; love. Though she felt the same way, it was nevertheless, unexpected. Clarke darted her eyes in her lack of anticipation, but immediately brought them back to meet Lexa’s. 

Reaching out brush a piece of hair out of Lexa’s face and behind her ear, Clarke smiles and leans into Lexa’s ear, “That’s good, because I’m already in love with you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I could honestly end the story here. But there's at least one more chapter....maybe two. It's good. Been in my outline since day one, so stay tuned!


	10. Snail Mail

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now that Clexa Halloween Week is over, I've been dying to update this fic. 
> 
> Those familiar with my work may know that I'm a fan of cliffhangers. Cliffhanger warning!
> 
> Also, I advise against any bubble gum chewing, jolly rancher eating, or any other small object you may choke on while reading this chapter.

Gentle and smooth roaming fingertips trace her abdomen followed by a warm and soft sensation behind her neck. Clarke feels tender nuzzles and light kisses by her ear, then along her pulse, and landing under her jaw. Now hands are coming back up to the full of her breasts, squeezing with a light graze over her right nipple, it causes her to take a deep breath in and gradually register her rousing awakening. Eyes still closed, the room smells of lavender and subtle candles over charcoaled firewood from the night before. Remembering and recognizing that she's in Lexa’s southwest cabin home.

She feels more kisses against her neck, deeper this time with a touch of tongue. Palms pressing harder with more intent, they pull her back against a hot bare chest, cutting the cool air in the small space between. A leg snakes its way over her hips to the front of her right thigh, tugging her legs gently apart and wedging her backside tightly flush with more naked skin.

She can feel Lexa’s right hand stray down to the new space created at the apex of her legs. A single finger slides between, stimulating and drawing wetness.

“Mmmm....” sighs Clarke with increasing breaths.

With Lexa’s leg still on top of hers, Clarke feels another tug at her inner thigh, opening her further. Fingertips brush over her clit and it makes Clarke want to squeeze her legs closed, but they meet light resistance.

“Mm nm,” Lexa hums a gentle no, holding Clarke’s right leg open with her own and now adding her left knee against the back of Clarke’s left thigh.

Clarke’s never been fucked this way before, it’s not exactly from behind with her back pressed against Lexa’s chest. She wants to turn around, face and straddle Lexa in some way or form but Lexa is holding her just tight enough to message her intent.

The length of full finger now glides along her throbbing clit and Clarke lets out a groan. Desperate for more friction, she tries to lift her hips, but Lexa pulls her even tighter.

“Fuck Lexa... baby, please…” Clarke begins to beg, but all she receives is Lexa’s warm breath, shushing her against her ear.

“Sshhh, relax.”

Hopelessly rocking with Lexa ridiculously snug against her back, Clarke can’t recall ever feeling so aroused, which is saying a lot considering their last few days. Fuck, considering their last few months of sporadic engagements. Clarke swears she’s about to finish from such superficial touches until Lexa slips in, purposefully avoiding the spot to prolong her.

Clarke groans in pleasure, wanting to clasp her legs shut but meets more resistance against Lexa’s smooth calves and thighs. Reaching for anything, Clarke finds the nape of Lexa’s neck with her right hand, fisting the underside of thick brown waves as if she were gripping the back of her own head. Instinctively, Lexa gives Clarke her left, intertwining her palm against the back of Clarke’s hand and hovering over Clarke’s heart.

Settling into a smooth and comfortable rhythm, each stroke felt insanely good as Lexa paced them. Clarke could feel Lexa’s hips jive against her lower back, the motion was… relaxing.

“Yeah... just like that baby,” whispers Lexa with growing puffs of warm air against Clarke’s right ear as Lexa also began breath harder.

All Clarke could do was literally lay back and relax, minus her clenching walls that Lexa somehow had absolute control of. Working her slowly internally, the sensation was almost unbearable as Clarke bit down on her own lip, moaning with each stroke barley grazing by what she needed the most.

She can’t take it anymore, “Lex…more…” Clarke barley whimpers.

Clarke gets what she asks for. Lexa presses and thrusts in full, pushing Clarke over the edge so fast that she truly felt like she was falling, over and over again with each cresting wave of her orgasm, screaming. Except Lexa was there to catch her, still holding on with fingers threaded against her chest and fitted against her like a parachute pack, guiding her slowly back down to Earth.

Sluggishly regaining her bearings, Clarke loosens her grip on Lexa’s hair and hand, turning to finally look the woman she loved in the eyes. Green embers vibrant, yet calmly waiting. There was nothing else but this very moment.

“I told you I’d make up for yesterday morning,” Lexa says softly with a grin.

Feeling bashful, Clarke looks down for a second, but comes back up to finally kiss Lexa. Clarke wanted to do more, but surprisingly was still recovering from whatever Lexa just did. Slumping down, she buries her head into the crook of Lexa’s neck with a small, sleepy huff.

“You okay?” Lexa asks casually, turning to let Clarke lay on top of her.

“Yeah… just, still need a minute,” mumbles Clarke.

Clarke doesn’t need to look up to know there’s a smug smile on Lexa face. As she curls closer, Lexa lightly rubs her back and it feels like a dream. All of it. The last hour, the last day, the last several months since she met this woman. Clarke could easily do this every day, she wanted to do this every day. Speaking of days.

“What are we doing today?” murmurs Clarke against Lexa’s neck.

“Yesterday was the fun outing, sorry. Really not much to do around here,” replies Lexa with a small shrug.

“Well what do you normally do, if I weren’t here?” asks Clarke.

“Mostly lounge around and read, catch up on a couple of shows, take the truck out, take the plane out, browse online auctions. Sometimes I go out in the mornings for a run, obviously not today,” Lexa teases and presses a kiss on Clarke’s forehead, “Pretty simple around here, no hustle and bustle considering my proximity to Vegas.”

Pulling the comforter up and coiling back into Lexa’s side, Clarke responds, “Mmm, I like it. So you’re saying I can just stay here in bed all day?”

“All day. Actually, what day is it today, Thursday?”

“Yeah,” replies Clarke.

“There’s a small farmers market in Boulder City, about twenty-five minutes away. Nothing spectacular, a handful of stands. How does that sound?”

“Mm, maybe,” replies Clarke, feeling reenergized, “I’ll let you know after this,” and props herself up to meet Lexa’s lips again.

Reaching between, Clarke grins when she finds Lexa’s slickness lightly coating the inside of her thighs.

“Thinking about me?” says Clarke, echoing one of Lexa’s first words to her.

Lexa wasn’t going to lie, fucking Clarke always turned her on, but the way Clarke unraveled against her less than five minutes ago was beyond arousing. Lexa almost came just from watching.

Smirking with a near cocky eyebrow raise, Lexa replies, “More like fucking you senseless.”

Clarke drops her jaw, scoffing, “I’ll show you senseless.”

Throwing the covers over her head, Clarke kisses her way down Lexa’s sleek body. It hinted of salt, but still somehow sweet. Dragging her tongue, Clarke takes Lexa in to her mouth in a smooth kiss. Slowly lapping, Lexa really must have been on the brink of coming, bud full and swollen, Clarke slows her approach to a circling motion.

Running her hands along Lexa’s thighs, Clarke could feel Lexa writhe under her tongue. Legs squeezing, Lexa was closer than Clarke wanted. Determined to prolong Lexa like she did her, Clarke abandons the bundle of nerves and teases Lexa’s entrance with her tongue.

“Clarke…”

Gradually dipping her tongue in-between the folds, Clarke reaches as deep as she can, gripping Lexa’s legs for leverage. Swirling and gently fucking Lexa with her tongue, Clarke wanted to do this all day. Listening to Lexa moan, sigh and gasp, this woman was the world to her and Clarke wanted her all to herself.

Sensing Lexa’s grip in her hair desperately trying to guide her up, Clarke seamlessly replaces her tongue with a single finger, scarcely anything except Clarke returns to Lexa’s clit with a light suck.

Sustained in a state of aching pleasure, Lexa’s legs began to tremble, fatigued from holding Clarke’s legs open earlier.

“Baby…” Lexa whimpers in a pleading tone.

Clarke must have heard her as Lexa feels a sudden fulfillment, sinking deep and landing exactly where she needed. Feeling Clarke’s mouth intensify with each targeted thrust, Lexa cries in satisfaction as her orgasm washes over, pitching and rolling with added laps of Clarke’s tongue.

Lexa doesn’t remember her hearing going out, but there’s a noticeable ring in her ears. She doesn’t remember closing her eyes, but she has to reopen them. She doesn’t remember Clarke crawling back up her body, but Clarke is resting atop with a smug grin that matched hers moments ago.

“Need a few minutes?” teases Clarke.

Still basking in her orgasm, Lexa couldn’t generate a verbal response and simply lets her head drop back down on the pillow, taking more than just a few minutes.

 

∞

 

“I should probably take the truck out again,” says Lexa as she reaches for her keys, deciding on which set.

Looking over a Clarke, she grabs the truck keys and holds them out expectantly, “Clarke.”

A little surprised, Clarke looks at Lexa to judge her seriousness. _Me?_

Lexa was insistent, “Do you know how to drive stick?”

“No.”

“Want to learn?”

A smile sneaks across Clarke’s face, it sounded fun and she nods, taking the keys.

Getting into the creaky truck, with old tan leather seats and ancient analog gauges, Lexa begins, “Okay, think of it as the clutch separating the engine from the tires.

“What?”

Rolling her eyes, Lexa restarts her technical approach, “Just step on the left pedal, all the way down.”

It wasn’t a complete disaster as Lexa explains the gears, neutral, and slowly letting the clutch go as you add gas. Lexa was a very patient teacher and it was Clarke’s own frustration that made things difficult, she was hard on herself.

The truck comes to a jolting stop for the fourth, maybe fifth time, not more than a mile from the cabin.

“Son of a bitch!” yells Clarke.

“You’re cute when you’re frustrated,” say Lexa.

Clarke really was absurdly cute. Tongue hanging out and licking her lips in concentration as she tried to balance the gas and clutch.

Though she had already confessed her love, Lexa felt a new type of attraction, smitten for Clarke in her state of determination. 

“Shut up,” replies Clarke.

Eventually they make it to Boulder City in twice the time, but neither cared. Stepping out of the truck, they automatically link hands across the dirt parking lot and into the open street. It was the first time they were in public like this, a clearer outline of love and affection compared to their day at the art museum.

Lexa freely lets herself wrap her arms around Clarke, peering over her shoulder as they casually browsed local fruits and vegetables.

Clarke openly kissed Lexa as often as she wanted, sometimes a chaste peck on the lips or a tongue filled twist when Lexa looked so damned cute just being herself Clarke couldn’t resist.

Strolling by the only food truck, it’s tacos of course. They order a few tacos and sit cross legged on a grassy patch to eat.

Mid-chew, “Mm, remind me next time we’re in LA to take you to this one taco truck,” says Clarke, “These are pretty good though.”

“The next time huh?”

“Ya…”  Clarke says with a wink.

“So… where else would you like… us to go?” Lexa says, near timidly.

Although they were clearly together, it was never verbally established.

Sitting back to think about the question, Clarke reads Lexa's trepidation, it wasn't really about travel or location.

“Lexa, I always want to be with you.”

Lexa face fills with a happiness, smile escaping, and looking so adorable that Clarke wanted to toss her tacos over her shoulder and kiss Lexa silly on the grass. Fuck it, so she does. Not exactly tossing her food away, but Clarke places it aside and leans up, pushing Lexa over to plant a kiss on her lips. Cheerfully playing against her mouth and smothering Lexa with love. For the first time, Clarke hears Lexa giggle and willing to do anything for more.

 

∞

 

Leaving the farmers market, Lexa opts to drive back and Clarke lets her.

Unsurprisingly, they spend another afternoon lounging in the hammock together.

 _It was ridiculously cozy_.

“Mmmm, I want to do this every day,” mumbles Clarke on the brink of sleep, tucked alongside and resting her head on Lexa’s shoulder.

 _Me too._ Thought Lexa. She could. From this morning to their very first night together, she really, really could. More importantly, she wanted to. The will was there. Except there was one last thing. Lexa was close yesterday, swaying gently in the hammock both physically and emotionally when she admitted her feelings. But, Lexa had more to reveal. Clarke deserved to know. 

“Clarke?”

Clarke had fallen fast asleep and it was like hitting a soft spot for Lexa. She couldn’t bear to wake her. Slowly getting up from the hammock to let Clarke sleep, Lexa decided she was going to tell her tonight after dinner.

 

∞

 

“Clarke?” Lexa whispers gently by her ear.

“Hm?”

“Clarke, wake up.”

Feeling Lexa rub her arms and place a few kisses on her check, Clarke opens her eyes. It’s dusk and Lexa is no longer in the hammock with her, but standing above.

“It’s starting to get cold out.”

“Crap, how long was I sleeping?”

“About an hour.”

“I didn’t even feel you get up.”

“You were pretty deep asleep. C’mon.”

Shaking off her mid-REM daze, Clarke swings her legs over the edge of the hammock and Lexa helps her up.

“I started some pasta. It won’t be anything like the place in Italy, but I was going to throw some fresh tomatoes from the farmers market today.”

“That sounds good.”

Sitting down, they talk about Clarke’s distinctive travels and some of the weirdest foods she’s eaten. Lexa was only able to compare shitty airline food and airport chains, slightly envious of Clarke’s experiences. Wrapping up dinner, they do the dishes together, Clarke washing and Lexa drying.

As Lexa was drying, Clarke wanders to one of Lexa’s bookshelves, noting several books from Erik Larson. She hadn’t read any of his work yet, but heard he was good.

“I take it you like Erik Larson, you have quite a few of his books,” says Clarke.

“Yes. You?”

“Actually, I haven’t gotten a chance to read any of his work.”

Lexa gasps like Clarke just committed an atrocious crime, “No. Seriously? Not even Devil in the White City? It’s even about Chicago! You should read that one first, borrow mine.”

Clarke scans the bookshelf for the book Lexa just mentioned.

“It’s missing.”

“Oh, um, check my desk up on the loft. I just reread it,” looking at Clarke with a slightly guilty grin, “Something got me thinking about Chicago.”

Clarke smiles back at her.

Going upstairs, Clarke easily spots the book on Lexa’s desk. Picking it up, Clarke couldn’t help by take note of the piece of mail underneath. It was addressed to “Lexa Fleming.”

_Fleming?_

Clarke blinks a few times to ensure she was reading it correctly. Double checking the date stamp, it was recent, delivered two days ago. Reading the sender, it was official mail of some sort, not spam or junk. Clarke didn’t go as far as opening the envelope, but she did scan the desk for other postal evidence. Except, Lexa’s desk was fairly neat; a cup full of pens and pencils, her laptop, and desk calendar. The addressed envelope stood alone.

Feeling desperate for an immediate explanation, Clarke opens the first drawer filled with more office supplies; paper clips, rubber bands, post-its, and… postal return labels with the name “Lexa Fleming.”

Frantically, Clarke tried to think back to anything else she might have seen with Lexa’s last name. Too distracted in her panic, she couldn’t, unable to even recall Lexa’s name tag in her pilot getup. Everything was a blur.

Heart palping, palms sweating, there was only one reason Clarke could think of and she felt utterly betrayed. Clarke considered not mentioning her postal findings at all and simply leaving. Calling for an expensive Uber, Lyft, or hell, even a cab if it could get her out of this place.

Though the thought crossed her mind, she was never one to run away. She had to ask. There must be some mistake. Though it seemed too careless or stupid of Lexa.  _Maybe Lexa was divorced?_ That made the most sense. A shitty breakup.

Walking down the spiral staircase, Clarke takes in a deep breath, “Lexa?”

Lexa doesn’t even turn, still drying dishes, “Clarke.”

“I um, I thought your last name is Woods.”

Lexa turns around, leaning against her counter, “It is Woods,” a suspicious tone takes over, “Why?”

Clarke takes a large gulp, fearful of her next question, “Then why do you have current mail addressed to Lexa Fleming?” Holding up the envelope as proof.

“Shit,” Lexa whispers under her breath.

_Wrong answer. Wrong response. Wrong everything._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to scream into my inbox if needed... I’m here for ya!


	11. The Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I never meant to fall in love  
> Who the hell does  
> I built my walls so high up  
> Afriad to feel the sun  
> Broken hearts behind me  
> Always losing  
> You lay bare in front of me  
> I'm ruined
> 
> I hear music when I look into your eyes  
> and I surrender  
> I will fall for you tonight  
> like Jericho
> 
> So shake the ground in front of me  
> Set my world on fire  
> Love was my enemy  
> Now it takes me higher  
> Than any lonely castle could  
> Or any fortress strong  
> I know I lost the battle  
> When I'm dying in your arms
> 
> I hear music when I look into your eyes  
> and I surrender  
> I will fall for you tonight  
> like Jericho
> 
> I surrender  
> Come on and pull me under  
> I surrender  
> I will fall for you tonight
> 
> Jericho - by Marc Scibilia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning! It starts with some sadness and angst.

“Lexa? Answer me, why do you have a different last name?” Clarke re-asks after a moment of guilty silence from Lexa.

“Fleming is my maiden name, but just, let me-,” Lexa stutters.

“Fleming is your **maiden** name? So you _are_ married? You’re fucking married! You lied to me?!”

“Clarke, please-” but Lexa is interrupted.

“You can’t… fuck with people’s feelings like this Lexa! I tell you I’m in love with you and you dare say the same while married to someone else!? Is this why you’re so guarded with your own feelings, _is it_?!”

“Well- yes, but-”

“Planning on a divorce or something?! I can’t believe you didn’t tell me!” Clarke couldn’t contain herself, continuing to shout, “Who is it?! Some rich chick or dude? Whatever. Buys all your million-dollar paintings while you screw off! How many of your “high milers” do you bring here? What is this, your fucking “fuck pad”!?” shouts Clarke.

Finally, unable to take anymore of Clarke’s verbal assaults, Lexa yells back in defense, “No Clarke, this isn’t my fucking “fuck pad”! I’ve never even been to the mile high club! You’re the only one! Alright?!”

Clarke settles at Lexa’s words. _She was the only one?_

“What?” says Clarke, cocking her head for more information.

Lexa calms her voice, “This is me. Just…” taking a deep breath, “give me a chance to explain.”

“Okay, then explain,” says Clarke, still feeling a defensive and crossing her arms.

As Clarke waits patiently, she can see tears swell in Lexa’s eyes and witnesses a type of pain she had not seen in a very long time.  

“Lexa?” Clarke says softly.

“Just wait Clarke, I can do it,” brushing her sniffles aside, swallowing and before taking a seat at one of the dining room chairs.

“I’m not married. But I was. Though not technically divorced either...” Lexa starts slowly, voice nearly a whisper as the truth surfaced.

“Her name was Costia. Costia Woods. She passed away three…” Lexa stops to correct herself, more time has passed since, “…actually, four years ago now. We met in college, she was… she was there for me when my dad died. Kept me sane. Shortly after we both graduated, we got married but kept our respective last names, I wanted to remember my father. But…” Lexa pauses to swallow, “…but six months later, she was diagnosed with cancer. For a year, we went through chemo. At first, she responded well, and the cancer was gone. But that was an illusion, it had only bought us few months. When she was re-diagnosed, the cancer had come back more aggressively. And before I knew it, she was gone. So, when she passed, I took her last name. So I could- So I could always remember her. But, sometimes I still get stuff in the mail under Fleming. As you can see.”

Clarke recognized the pain now, it was the same pain her mother had when her father died.

“Oh my god Lexa, I am so sorry…I….I don’t even know what to say,” shocked and speechless.  

“It’s okay Clarke. I should have told you sooner. I wanted to tell you. Every day, I wanted to tell you, but it was hard for me,” says Lexa with another deep breath. “I’ve never told anybody.”

Stillness continues to blanket the air as Clarke continue to process.

Opening up a little more, Lexa adds, “It’s better now. I gradually recovered, I took care of myself for the better part of a year- which is why I’m not particular to toys. It got… mundane, and then, then I started sleeping around. I found that it was easy for me. A simple pickup line and I left the bar or restaurant with whoever I wanted. Actually, if I didn’t feel like leaving my room, I’ve even utilized an escort service, especially overseas. I didn’t want to be in another relationship. I didn’t want to feel that way again. I couldn’t.”

Lexa looks back up to meet Clarke’s eyes, except that Clarke now has a completely tear streaked face, “Clarke?”

“Lexa, that is so…fucking sad. Heartbreaking, yet the most loving and sweetest thing I’ve ever heard. I can’t even imagine,” says Clarke. “Am I really the first person you’ve ever told?”

“Well, yeah. There’s no one else to tell Clarke. It’s just me.”

“So, what, you’re just going to live this life?”

Sitting idly, “Umm.. yeah. I don’t hate my life Clarke, it’s… fine.”

“Just… fine? How old are you even?”

“28.”

“Lex, you’re not even 30 and you’ve condemned yourself to a solitary lifestyle?”

“I didn’t condemn myself. Technically speaking, I do travel the world all the time,” says Lexa, trying to lighten the mood.

“Please,” Clarke rolls her eyes, “Don’t you think you deserve better?”

Lexa shrugs. No, she didn’t.

“Lexa…” Clarke says in a sad and disappointing tone.

Clarke takes a few steps closer, settling a hand on Lexa’s shoulder. Lexa leans in to Clarke’s touch and Clarke advances to a hug, holding Lexa’s head against her chest.

Looking down, Clarke apologizes for both her actions and Lexa’s past loss, “I’m sorry.”

Standing up, Lexa looks into Clarke’s eyes and cups her face, “Don’t be, I have you to love now.”

Finally letting it all go, Lexa places a gentle kiss on Clarke’s lips, earnest and full, completely letting herself love again. Clarke had made everything better, bringing down her walls and gaining entry only to heal her wounds. Lexa was whole again. Beyond whole, like Clarke had meticulously unraveled each strand of rope and weaved herself in, splicing an unbreakable eye at the end of a line.

Pulling Lexa tighter, Clarke kisses back with everything she had. Using every cell of her body, Clarke needed Lexa to know. A light moan escapes from Lexa’s mouth at the sensation of Clarke’s arms wrapping around her waist and squeezing her flush. Feeling one of Clarke’s hands drift behind her neck, the kiss deepens with a heavy breath and Clarke presses herself into Lexa, backing her up against the dining table.

Urging Lexa up, Lexa sits and scoots back on the table as Clarke advances, relentlessly kissing her with evermore passion. Lexa can feel a light grind of Clarke’s hips between her legs, nudging and pressing until she breaks the kiss for air, gasping. Except Clarke doesn’t slow her pace, tracing lips peppering along her jawline, Clarke felt strong and incredibly reassuring but gentle and attentive at the same time. Lexa held onto her like a lifeline, reaching to tangle the full of Clarke’s blonde hair, soft and silky as it fell between her fingers.

A familiar buzzing sound reverberates behind Lexa. Peeking an eye, the lights flicker, dim, and die. Humming of electricity throughout the cabin halts with the only open current running between Clarke and Lexa’s bodies. It’s pitch dark for a few moments until their eyes adjust to the faint starlight, barely illuminating the room through the tall triangular windows.

“Mm, power’s out again,” Lexa says indifferently.

“Candles?”

Clarke can’t see, but she can sense the smirk on Lexa’s face.

Letting off, Lexa slides off the table with Clarke’s hand in hers. Intuitively, Lexa wanders to her coffee table first, kneeling to light the main compliment of candles.

That’s as far as she gets before Clarke is pressing her lips against the back of her neck, nuzzling and nibbling, followed by a leaning push that has Lexa on her back atop her white living room rug.

Lexa giggles, “Clarke…”

Only Clarke responds with more kisses. Tongue gliding in smooth familiarity and comfort, Lexa loved the way Clarke kissed her. A perfect balance of intensity and care. But there was more tonight, Clarke was pouring herself into Lexa and Lexa willingly drank, deprived of water this entire time.

The feeling of warm hands and hot skin slowly replace clothing, unhurried and lovingly until they’re stark naked on the floor. Lying side by side and facing each other, legs and arms tangle as they continue to kiss, sighing in each other’s mouths. With increasing presses of each other’s thigh, Clarke reaches between with her left hand and Lexa mirrors with her right.

They simultaneously stroke each other, pleasing while receiving. Slipping into the each other, they rock in perfect unison with noses bumping, chests pressing and fingers gliding. They’re wandering in and out of consciousness in their state of pleasure until Clarke locks eyes with Lexa, peering into her forest of green. Out of habit, Lexa begins to let them drift shut.

“No…” says Clarke softly, “let me see you.”

Relocking eyes, Lexa _finally_ lets Clarke see, beyond the trees and into the clearing that was Lexa. All of her for Clarke to take.

Clarke sweeps in with another kiss, never breaking eye contact and holding Lexa in the moment of passion and pleasure. Emotionally overwhelmed from Clarke’s presence embracing her soul, Lexa barely registered her rising orgasm.

“Clarke!” Lexa screams in pleasure, seconds from coming.

Except Lexa wasn’t going anywhere without Clarke.

“I’m here,” whispers Clarke, coming instantaneously with Lexa.

They fell together. Completely lost in each other, forgetting to comprehend or care.

Lexa returns to the feeling of kisses. Kisses everywhere. Her neck, chin, jaw, cheeks, the tip of her nose, eyes, and forehead until they land back on her lips.

“I can’t stop kissing you,” whispers Clarke.

“So don’t,” meeting Clarke’s lips again and again.

At some point, they fall asleep in exhaustion with the glow and flicker of the candlelight reflecting off their intertwined curves.

 

-

 

A startling cool chill wakes Lexa, she’s still on the floor of her living room under the couch throw. Reaching for Clarke, Lexa only finds a warm patch. She’s not particularly alarmed, propping herself up on her elbow and scanning the colorless room, hues of grey lit by ambient starlight.

She spots Clarke’s silhouette on her back deck, setting up a camera and tripod aimed at the sky.  

Rising, Lexa wraps the throw around her naked body and pulls the double paned sliding glass doors open, stepping outside.

“Clarke, it’s freezing out here,” says Lexa as she witnesses Clarke in what seemed to be just a hoodie. Not even pants.

“Hey Lex, I’ll just be a second. You should go by inside,” replies Clarke, adjusting a few buttons on her camera, “I can’t leave without at least a couple long exposures of the milky way out here,” with wisps of warm moisture escaping into the air as she spoke.

Pressing the final camera button to begin taking pictures, Clarke looks up to admire the sky, letting out a cloud in her exhale, “God I love it out here.”

Opposite of what Clarke said, Lexa takes a few steps towards and wraps Clarke in the throw with her.

“Well, you’re welcome back anytime,” Lexa says, pressing her lips against the cool of Clarke’s ear.

“Oh, I plan on it,” replies Clarke, turning and connecting lips which sends a warm feeling throughout her body more effective than the blanket.

Reentering into the cozy cabin, Clarke and Lexa snuggle into bed facing each other with permanent, admiring grins.

“I love you so much,” says Clarke, running her fingers lazily through Lexa’s chocolate waves.

“I love you too,” replies Lexa with sweetest, most satisfying smile Clarke has seen yet.

 

∞

 

February - Three months later.  

“Are you sure I can stay at your place while I’m overnighting in Chicago?” asks Lexa over the phone.

Clarke was abroad in Sydney for the next two weeks. Her trip to Spain was postponed until spring so Kane sent her to Australia for their summer season.

“Lexa, it’s been months, half of your clothes and shit are at my place anyways. Of course, it’s okay.”

“Just seems weird, without you here.”

“Hey, while you’re there, will you mail me my book? I know I can just buy it and download it onto my iPad, but it’s not the same,” says Clarke.

“I know, I know, you like the way real pages feel, dog-earing and marking the sides with handwritten notes,” replies Lexa.

“So when are you going to take some vacation time and join me one of these days?”

“Clarke, you know how hard it is for me to take days off.”

“Ugh, lame. You know, you make it harder for yourself. Anyways, I wonder if I’ll pick up a little Aussie accent while I’m here,” says Clarke, “I’ve always liked their accent.”

“That would be kinda cute. I’m trying to imagine,” replies Lexa.

“You do one.”

“What?”

“Say…. ‘I, Lexa, deserve better’ in your best Aussie accent.”

“Clarke, this is ridiculous. You’re still not going to let that go, are you?”

“Well, I just don’t understand why you punished yourself like that. Wished I would have come along sooner, Christ babe. Actually, you’re doing it to yourself, right now. I have yet to see you take a vacation day. Just say it, and I promise I’ll let it go.”

Lexa scoffs on the phone, “No, I’m not doing it,” and changing the subject, “What hotel and room are you at again? So I can mail your book to you?”

“I’m at the Westin right downtown, Room 1214.”

“Okay, I’m just getting to your place. I’ll call you back when I get settled in for the evening,” says Lexa.

“Okay. Love you, bye.”

“Love you too, bye.”

Hanging up, Clarke opens her laptop to organize her notes from the day before when she hears a knock at the door. That weird, Clarke didn’t order any room service or call down for anything.

Opening the door, it’s Lexa with a medium suitcase, a small bouquet, and Clarke’s book in hand. Eyes sparkling and grinning.

“Lexa!” Clarke nearly tackles her girlfriend in a rushing hug and plants a big kiss on her lips. “What are you doing here!?”

“I took the week off and let’s just say,” clearing her throat to produce an Aussie accent, “I, Lexa, deserve better.”

 

**THE END**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! Thank you so much for coming with me on this journey! It was incredibly fun, traveling with these two and watching their love unfold. I swear I've melted into a pool of fluff. Your support has been amazing. I'm a newer writer, so please spread the word! Check me out on tumblr @TheSSCLexa. 
> 
> Looking for more? Check out my Xmas special one shot for these two, Neither Here Nor There.

**Author's Note:**

> My inbox is always open! @TheSSClexa on tumblr. 
> 
> All mistakes are my own. Beta also always welcome, for this work and/or other works if mine. :)
> 
> Disclaimer: This work of fiction is mine and in no way representative of the locations/organizations depicted.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Neither Here Nor There](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13138269) by [TheSSClexa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSSClexa/pseuds/TheSSClexa)




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